


The Fallen Path

by fictitiousLiterate



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Jonah Magnus, Canon-Typical Web, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Darkfic, Eventual JonMartin, Jon's canon typical guilt complex, M/M, Slow Burn, Web!Martin, cws in chapter notes, jon's s2 paranoia, martin isn't even mentioned until chapter 3, original statements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 34
Words: 56,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictitiousLiterate/pseuds/fictitiousLiterate
Summary: Jon's path to avatarhood is a lot darker without an anchor OR Martin anchors Jon in a different direction.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 310
Kudos: 209





	1. The Archivist is Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is left without his friends and assistant after a terrible worm-woman attacks the Magnus Institute, he finds the corpse of Gertrude Robinson, and he meets a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Major Character death  
> Worms  
> Gore

There was no warning when the worms attacked the Magnus Institute. Jane Prentiss broke through a wall and her worms descend on Sasha first. Jon will never forget the look on her face when the worms started burrowing out of her belly. He tried to warn Tim before he returned to the Institute from his lunch break but it was too late and he listened to his friend die screaming in agony over the phone. His two friends were dead because he sat there and pretended he didn’t believe in the supernatural _when he knew better_. They had agreed to help Jon in a position that he shouldn’t have accepted and now they were dead.

Jon ran into the tunnels Prentiss had come up through and into a room with another much older corpse surrounded by boxes of tapes. The body had been in clothes that would reasonably belong to an elderly woman and somehow Jon knew he was looking at the body of his predecessor. When rescue crews came down looking for him he didn’t mention the body. He couldn’t risk the police taking the tapes away as evidence. He was going to find out what happened to Gertrude before it happened to him without anyone impeding him.

Elias forced him on a month’s leave for bereavement after giving Jon his statement of the events. Jon wanted to ask about Gertrude but he didn’t want to raise suspicion. Elias seemed at least partially apologetic about Tim’s and Sasha’s deaths but something didn’t sit right with Jon. _Someone_ had to have killed Gertrude and it couldn’t have been Tim or Sasha. He decides to spend his month of bereavement finding out everything publically known about Gertrude’s disappearance. The official story is that Elias had come in and found her desk covered in blood. The body was never officially found but Jon does find that he was offered Gertrude’s job _before_ the search for her was even called off. If Elias already knew the position was vacant it would mean that he knew Gertrude was dead.

He skipped Tim’s and Sasha’s funerals. It’s his fault they’re dead, why should he be anywhere near their grieving families? He does go to where they’re buried after their funerals, though. He brings them both flowers and quietly sobs apologies.

When he returns home there is a new door in his flat. 

“Hello Archivist,” says an echoing voice. Jon turns to see a humanoid monster with sharp hands nearly the size of its torso curled over his ceiling like a shadow. Jon freezes in his entryway with fear. 

“What-what do you want?” He stammers out.

“I’m not a thing that _wants,”_ it replies.

“Ah,” Jon whimpers. “Why are you here?”

“Your archival assistants, very sad what happened to them. Wasn’t it?” It asks, folding itself around and onto Jon’s couch

“I...are you here to avenge them? Kill me for getting them killed?”

“You think I’m an avenging angel?” The thing laughs and Jon can feel it echoing into a migraine.

“What are you, then?”

“How would a melody describe itself?”

“Just tell me what you want!” Jon huffs, his fear quickly becoming annoyance.

“Oh, alright. If you’re looking for something to call me ‘Michael’ is a name,” it chuckles. “I’m here to tell you the head of the Institute is not what he seems.”

“Michael? I thought you weren’t an angel,” Jon jokes weakly. “Elias is untrustworthy. Is that all? Nothing to tell me about whether he killed Gertrude Robinson?”

The thing stands and slips back through its door. “Oh, and it would be best for you _not_ to risk any more assistants.”

Jon moves to sit on the couch once Michael has left. A monster just broke into his flat to tell him nothing he didn’t already know. Elias wasn’t to be trusted as far as he could help it and there would be no new archival assistants while he’s the archivist. From now on he was going to go about everything he did alone.

Despite still being on leave he sneaks into the Archives late one evening to get back into the tunnels and obtain some of Gertrude’s tapes. The wall Prentiss burst out of is already boarded and dry-walled up. At least repairs would be complete by the time he officially returned to work. The trap door into the tunnels is his next option but it’s locked. For a moment he panics. Had the worm clean-up crews found the corpse? No, if that was the case there would be police tape. Elias had probably just locked it because it wasn’t in use. The key would be in his office.

The Archives at night are far darker than seems natural and he still has that awful feeling of being watched. Every time a shadow shifts in his torchlight he jumps. Maybe it would be for the best for him to wait until he’s more healed from the Prentiss attack. No, every second he doesn’t act more and more evidence of what happened to Gertrude could be gone. He had to do this tonight.

He tries to re-trace his steps back to the room he found Gertrude in. Several of the doors he opens open into a wall but eventually he comes back upon her final resting place.

“Good evening, Mrs. Robison,” he says quietly to the corpse. “I hope you don’t mind if I borrow some of these tapes.”

If she did mind then she doesn’t say so. Jon’s body however did mind quite a bit. Between his worm-related injuries and his total lack of athleticism, there is no way he’ll be able to lift the tape boxes and drag them back home. A dolly would work until he got to the stairs and maybe bringing them closer would make it easier than having to wander the tunnels every time. Next time he would at least try to bring a map. This time he grabs a random handful of tapes, shoves them into his bag, and heads home to listen to what he’s found.

The first tape he listens to is disappointing. A Russian man loses nearly loses his younger brother to a circus that kidnaps and puppeteers their guests into being part of the act. A familiar name is mentioned but without the Institute’s resources, he can’t look further into Gregor Orsinov or Nikolai Denikin. It offers no information about Gertrude, her killer, or why she chose to record at all. It does tell him that she likely wasn’t the senile old fool he had assumed she was. Maybe one of these tapes would explain the state of the Archives. He decides he will make a record of his investigation so he buys up a bunch of tapes online to record with.

The tape is also quite unnerving in that it makes him feel watched again. Could the statements have something to do with it?


	2. The Archivist Investigates Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon returns to work, makes another discovery, talks to two monsters, and makes a choice.

Elias comes into Jon’s office on his first day back from his bereavement leave.

“Good morning, Jon,” he says is his usual academic tone. “How was your leave?”

“Fine, thank you,” Jon replies shortly. “Happy to be back to work.”

“Glad to hear,” Elias smiles quickly. “I was hoping to speak with you about getting new assistants. I know no one can replace our dearly departed Tim and Sasha but I can’t expect you to get all of this done _alone.”_

“Oh, er,” Jon stammers. He had expected this conversation, just not so soon. “I’d prefer to handle it on my own, for the time being.”

Elias looks at him as if he’s a particularly difficult jigsaw puzzle and says, “I’ll email you some CVs for when you change your mind. There are a few individuals from Research I have my eye on.”  
“Ok,” Jon acquiesces. “Is that all? I’d like to return to recording statements.”

“Yes,” Elias says with a pleased smile. “Enjoy your statements.”

Jon privately decides to not go anywhere near the people whose CVs Elias sends. Mostly because he didn’t want to risk anyone else’s life, especially after his monstrous visitor. It didn’t help that Elias had hired him with no qualifications to be Head Archivist so it would be unlikely anyone he sent Jon’s way would be helpful. Even _if_ any of them were qualified he couldn’t risk letting anyone know about his investigation. Being alone would be better.

That day he records the written statement of Jennifer Ling. It leaves him feeling scared, watched, and strangely satisfied. The act of researching it doesn’t give many results in the vein of finding Grifter’s Bone but Jon has far more important things to look into, anyway.

Things like his prime suspect for Gertrude’s murder. Elias could have easily fired her, and been justified in doing so given the state of the Archives, which meant he likely had more personal reasons to kill her and hide her body. As far as Jon could discover professionally Gertrude was hired by Elias’ predecessor, James Wright. What he could glean of Elias’ public relationship with the late archivist was broadly unsubstantial since it would require him asking around the Institute which would arouse suspicion. They were Facebook friends but that didn’t give him much to work with. Gertrude’s Facebook is almost totally blank save for a few Farmville requests and a picture of her at the Institute Holiday Party from 2013. Elias’ own social media is equally uninformative, made up almost exclusively of photos of himself at various fundraising events. While it is interesting that the two biggest donors to the Institute also tend to be heavily featured in statements and it’s certainly something he would like to follow up on it doesn’t seem like Gertrude was killed for threatening funding.

Elias himself seems to have had a relatively uninteresting life prior to and including becoming the Head of the Institute. The most interesting thing he can find is Elias having been a bit of a pothead at university. If he was going to find anything else out about Elias, he would have to go a less than legal route. So, tonight he would have to stay late and break into Elias’ office to find his address. It isn’t hard because Elias continues to leave his door unlocked and Jon decides to go down into the tunnels for more tapes before heading home.

This time equipped with a hand-drawn map he quickly heads directly down into the room with Gertrude.

“It’s me again, Mrs. Robinson,” he says lightly to her corpse. “I don’t suppose you’ll suddenly decide to give me a statement regarding your murder from beyond the grave?”

Gertrude doesn’t bother to answer but when he turns to look at her he sees them. Someone has left a few flowers in Gertrude’s lap. Flowers that were most certainly not there the last several times he’d been down there. He immediately grabs a tape at random out of the box and makes a break back for the exit.

 _Someone or something else was in the tunnels._ It could have been Elias taunting him but it was far more likely to be something else. Something else that may also have had a motive to shoot Gertrude thrice in the chest; as mundane a death as that was compaired to many of the monsters mentioned in Archives. Know he likely hasn’t been alone in the tunnels leaves Jon deeply nervous on his way home. Everywhere he goes he feels watched but whenever he looks around it’s someone too engrossed in their phone or their companions to possibly pay him much mind. Still, he holds his bag as tightly to himself as possible and doesn’t relax until he gets home.

Even then he still feels watched as he puts the tape labeled _Crusader_ into his spare tape recorder. The tape contains the statement of a man named Walter Heller who while in recovery from an injury sustained during operation Crusader stumbled upon an old basement where he found and eyeless corpse and a creature with one lidless eye possibly guarding it. Heller also mentions a feeling of being watched comparable to the feeling of being watched in the Archives. The thing that really strikes Jon is what Gertrude says in her supplemental.

“My biggest concern right now is whatever creature Mr. Heller encountered down there. It was 56 years ago, but if it’s still alive, I should be careful. What was it? A guardian of some sort? Or perhaps… perhaps… it too was once an archivist.”

Jon shudders and wonders if it’s some kind of chain. A long line of people calling themselves “Archivist” to keep a record of the unknowable horrors that haunt the fringes of society. He considers potentially looking into the eye sockets of Gertrude’s corpse the next time he goes into the tunnels, just in case she has too many or too few eyes. He will likely have to bring a weapon of some variety with him next time in case he encounters whatever left flowers for Gertrude. He also makes a note to re-examine the Von Closen statement, something about the eye-less creatures seems familiar to him.

Gertrude also seemed to be intent on keeping her meeting with Mr. Heller a secret from the rest of the Institute. Did that mean she didn’t trust Elias as early his first year as the Head of the Institute or was there someone else she was keeping secrets from? He would have to look into Elias’ relationship with James Wright to see if there was anything there that might have risen her suspicions. In the meantime, the three statements he’d recorded today have left him exhausted.

It takes him a while to fall asleep. Every time he closes his eyes he can see the Archivist of Alexandria with it’s one great eye reaching for him with it’s long, bony fingers. Eventually, the early morning grants him new terrors in the form of nightmares. He’s growing to hate the grave in his dreams. He can hear her trapped in it. He digs and digs but it’s no use. He _knows_ it’s no use. Naomi Hern has been in his nightmares since she gave her statement and he can’t do anything about it. It would likely be better to just ignore it. It wasn’t like she was anything but rude to him, anyway. Melanie King’s statement comes next. All he can do is watch her as she watches the thing pretending to be Sarah Balwin getting tossed across a room by some unseen force. Surely there was no way either of the women were having the same dream. These nightmares were just a memory of how he felt their fear while they gave their statements.

Jon wakes up with the same dreadful watched feeling, has a breakfast of the most caffeinated beverage he can obtain, and comes into work early. He arrives before Rosie does and does his best to follow up on Mr. Heller’s statement. He’s beginning to miss Tim and Sasha as coworkers. Either one of them would be able to get him all the information he needs on Mr. Heller before lunch but as it is he’s forced to do it alone. Thankfully there is a written record of the statement that Jon can look over and annotate. Unfortunately Mrs. Robinson’s distrust lead to a lack of contact information on Mr. Heller which leaves Jon to spend the better part of the day looking up every Walter Heller in the United Kingdom and the one he does find that would have been old enough to fight in WWII died in 2004. Before he can begin looking into the place mentioned in the late Mr. Heller’s statement a woman comes into his office. She looks tired and shaken and Jon _knows_ she’s here to give a statement that could only be recorded on his tape recorder.

“Hello?” She says. “I’m here to give a statement. The woman at the front desk said to come speak with you. My name is Helen Richardson.”

“Hello Ms. Richardson,” Jon greets. “I’m Jon Sims. May I ask what the statement is regarding?”

“I think it would be easier to show you,” she replies. “Do you have a pen and paper I could borrow?”

He gives her a pen and paper while he prepares a tape and she begins drawing a nonsensical map. The problem is it looks _very_ similar to his own map of the tunnels. Her statement itself is unsettling. She describes the thing Jon knows as Michael showing up for someone else’s house showing appointment and directing her to its (his?) door. She describes an endless, twisting nonsensical hallway that makes Jon’s mind turn and distort. He can feel her fear burrowing into his own heart and he’s certain that Helen would be joining his cast of nightmares. Jon does his best to reassure her and promises he’ll look into it and she leaves through the yellow door in his office.

There is no yellow door in his office. He _knows_ there isn’t and yet he let her walk through it as though it was totally normal. Before he can get up to go after her it swings open to reveal Michael.

“Let her out, Michael,” Jon says, trying to sound controlled between his own fear and the fear from the statement still lingering.

“Bossy Archivist,” Michael tuts. “If you aren’t careful I might mistake you for the old one.”

“Let Ms. Richardson go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. She was already mine, after all.”

“I won’t accept that,” Jon says harshly. No one else was dying on his watch. No one else.

“It’s not for you to accept, Archivist,” Michael laughs. Jon doesn’t know what strength posses him but he lunges at the monster only to get a deep cut over his shoulder.

“Ow! Just here to gloat then?”

“Just checking in on your progress. You’re coming along much faster than I expected.”

“My progress with _what?”_

Michael takes this as its cue to leave. Jon looks over the wound in his shoulder and decides it would be best to just deal with it himself.

He can’t shake the feeling that Michael is in some way linked to the tunnels under the Institute. It spoke like it knew Gertrude. Had it killed her? Was he being sent on a wild goose chase toward Elias for nothing? Maybe if he was more focused on getting answers and less focused on Helen he would know more. Suddenly he’s craving another statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You never realize how much season 2 Jon talks about Martin until you re-write season 2 without Martin.


	3. The Archivist Gains a New Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon stalks Elias to a poker game, he hears a new live statement, and dreams about a spider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Stalking  
> (brief) Gambling

Following Elias is surprisingly boring. He leaves the Institute at exactly the same time every day and drives directly home where he stays until he leaves for work at exactly the same time in the morning. On the weekend he goes to a few places but nowhere particularly interesting. The highlight of the two-ish weeks Jon spends spying on Elias is on Saturday evening when he goes down to an abandoned building to play poker with two of the men regularly featured in photos of the Institute’s benefactors and another man who appears to have a surprisingly unkempt beard for his company. It stands to reason that at least three of the individuals present at the poker are of good enough standing _not_ to have to resort to playing poker in a warehouse unless they were all up to something unscrupulous.

Other than Elias the two men Jon recognizes from photos are Simon Fairchild and Peter Lukas. He decides it would be best to look into them away from the Institute in order to avoid anyone catching him potentially jeopardizing funding. The stranger to Jon still looks familiar enough that he has to go through old statements to find a familiar photo. The unkempt player bears a striking resemblance to the head of the Church of the Divine Host, Maxwell Rayner. What has Elias and two Institute donors doing gambling with an aging cult leader who hadn’t been heard from for over twenty years?

As far as the building itself was concerned it was owned by a company called Outer Bay Shipping. A company which as far as Jon can tell is a shell corporation although he doesn’t have any skill in tracking corporate ownership. Not they way Sasha did, anyway. So the warehouse itself was still a dead end unless Jon was willing to give up tailing Elias to stake out the building.

He’s beginning to find statements with similar theming (insects, spiders, the uncanny, meat, et cetra) and lumping them together. It makes more sense to him to research them in groups like that than any other way. He gets slightly annoyed when a statement that at first glance appears to be one thing but clearly turns into another. Thankfully he’s getting a sense for which statements “belong” together.

He’s halfway through a series of statements dealing with isolation when a middle-aged man in a well-tailored suit bursts into his office.

“Can I help you?” Jon asks the already apparently irritated man.

“Are you the one I’m meant to report a supernatural...assault to?” He demands. Lovely, a statement giver with a real statement.

“If you’re here to make a statement you’ll need to fill out this form,” Jon says a little more sternly than he means. “When you finish I’ll have you state your name and the subject of your statement for the record.”

“A tape recorder? In 2016? Can’t you afford something better?”

“I’m afraid not. Now if you wouldn’t mind filling out the form and letting me know when to begin recording?”

The man rolls his eyes but fills in his name and contact details.

“Alright, Statement of... Marcus Wilson regarding signing over his house to one Martin Blackwood. Statement taken direct from subject, 16th October 2016. Statement begins:”

“I want to make something clear: I have never picked someone up from a bar before. I don’t care how other people get on but it’s just not for me.

I tell you this because that’s where I met Martin about a month ago. It was my wedding anniversary and I was out with a few friends trying not to miss my wife too much. My Kathrine passed away a few years ago you see and it’s...been hard. Especially around holidays, her birthday, and our anniversary. So you can see even if I _was_ the type to pick someone up, it wouldn’t have been that night.

Until I saw Martin. I couldn’t tell you exactly what drew me to him. He was good-looking enough but the moment I caught his eye I knew I _had_ to go talk to him and get to know him. It didn’t even feel like my thought. As if some foreign voice had crawled into my head and said “go talk to him.

I stood up and totally ignored my friends to go talk to this… _enchanting_ man. I came over and introduced myself. We exchanged pleasantries and the more we spoke the more I wanted to give this man anything he asked for. What he asked for was a number of very specific questions about my house. Questions I would never answer a total stranger had I been in my right mind, but in that moment Martin wasn’t a stranger he was friendly and charming so I told him anything he wanted to know.

Whether I lived alone and if I currently had any guests were reasonable enough questions given where I believed the night to be heading. Even giving my address wasn’t much of a request if he intended to come back to mine, but he started asking other questions. Like whether I owned my home outright, how big it was, and how well I got on with my neighbors. I knew those weren’t normal questions but I couldn’t help but answer. I couldn’t even justify it to myself as I did. It just seemed natural to want to appease Martin.

As the night wore on my friends grew a bit annoyed with me for abandoning them. I was just so enthralled in Martin that I told them all to go on without me. All that mattered was Martin’s attention on me. I just watched them all leave the bar without me. Part of me resents them for it. How could I not? They left me alone with some stranger. Even if it was only after I basically told them to buzz off.

I paid for the ride back to my house. I was still expecting it to be some kind of hook-up but Martin hadn’t touched me once. When we arrived he continued not to touch me and I took it as a strange sort of rejection when he started asking about the deed to my house. It was well into the early morning by the time all the paperwork was in order for us to go to have the deed transferred into his name.

It made so much sense to me at the time. Martin was gorgeous and charming so it only stood to reason that he should have his own house. Mine was just the only one I had to give him so it would have to do. He had me pay for the storage unit and the moving company to take all of mine and Kathrine’s furniture out of the house. I knew I didn’t want to sign over my home but I just watched my own hands sign it away. After it was all said and done he just left me at the storage unit.

The moment I was free of his spell nothing made sense. How could I have ignored my friends like that? What the hell possessed me to invite a total stranger into my home? How could I just give away the house my wife and I had built our life together in? I went to...to Martin’s house to _demand_ he return my home to me but I couldn’t even bring myself to walk the path to the front door. Whatever spell he cast to make me do his bidding was stopping me from going after him physically. I can’t go to the police because they certainly won’t believe me if I told them I was mind-controlled by someone I brought home from the bar. Even my lawyer couldn’t find any way around what Martin had forced me to do and I’m sure she’s ready to shove me off on another member of her firm. You people are my last hope.”

Jonny blinks a few times when the man’s statement ends. The fear of being pulled by unknown threads was all too familiar to him and it left the taste of cobweb on his tongue.

“So?” The man prompts after Jon takes a bit too long to come back to himself.

“Erm...sorry,” Jon replies. “Can you recall the bar you met Mr. Blackwood in?”

“It’s all in that form there,” the man says impatiently. “What are you going to _do_ about him? You can’t just have someone like that running around London and stealing people’s homes!”

“I’ll make some inquires and let you know if I find out anything more.”

“Inquiries? While a monster is on the loose?”

“Sir, this is an academic institution. We are in no way equipped to… _monster hunt._ The best I can do is help you make sense of it all.”

“Fine,” the man says sharply before leaving in a huff. Jon couldn’t say he didn’t at least try to be polite. The statement had left him feeling slightly drained and the unknown eyes watching him made him need a break. Ideally, a smoke break but he didn’t have a lighter and wasn’t about fall off the wagon over one statement. Not after he had recorded so many.

Looking into people living in London named Martin Blackwood would be far easier if he had Sasha’s computer skills or Tim’s people skills to call on. It’s not an extremely common name but “handsome” doesn’t remotely narrow anything down on Facebook. Something prompts Jon to click on the profile picture of a tarantula looking directly at the camera instead of any of the images of humans. There are a few more photos in this Martin’s gallery and Jon _knows_ as soon as he sees him that this Martin is the Martin from the statement. Jon supposes he is good-looking although certainly not good looking enough to give away one’s house to. It’s difficult to glean much from the page but a home town (assuming it’s accurate) isn’t a bad place to start.

Googling Martin Blackwood along with the name of the village _does_ pull up something interesting. An article in the local newspaper from 2005 about the death of Donna Blackwood. Apparently a suicide over her deteriorating medical condition leaving her 18-year-old son, Martin, orphaned. The paper goes into praising Martin for working hard to take care of his mother and talking about how he had to drop out of school because he was just so concerned about her condition which is to say, was forced to drop out so he could afford to eat. Jon wonders briefly if Martin learned he could make people want to do things for him before or after 2005. The next step would be to go to Blackwood’s home town and try to find any former neighbors but he can’t risk leaving London. Not while he’s certain he’s going to catch Elias doing something unscrupulous any day now. Even going to the bar would be sacrificing time better spent investigating Gertrude.

Jon knows before he goes to bed that he’ll be dreaming of Mr. Wilson giving away his house to Martin Blackwood. He’s already so, so tired of Naomi and Melanie’s nightmares. Their fear is still fresh but the powerlessness he feels in wearing on him. When he gets to Wilson’s statement he doesn’t see the Martin from the Facebook profile or the newspaper page. He sees a humanoid spider with eight black eyes sitting oddly on a human face, its mouth appears to be Martin’s save for the large black canines, and worst of all his four human limbs are supplemented with four spider legs. Each spider leg is pulling and spinning a thread that Jon can see attaches to Mr. Wilson in a way so horrifically reminiscent of Mr. Spider that Jon wishes desperately that he could wake up. He tries to intervene. He can’t watch someone else go to Mr. Spider’s door if he can help it. Nothing happens. He tries to tug the strings back. He tries to push them apart. He tries everything he can think of but the scene plays out exactly as it did in the statement.

Jon wakes up and his mouth tastes like cobwebs. He can feel the thousands of eyes watching him as they always do and he hopes they enjoy watching him cry in the shower until he runs out of hot water. Maybe he should try harder to help Marcus Wilson to at least get some form of closure? No, he had to figure out what happened to Gertrude, first. He couldn’t help anyone if Elias killed him.

That day Elias calls Jon up to his office.

“Good afternoon, Jon,” he says pleasantly when Jon walks in.

“You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes, it seems once again a statement giver has complained about your behavior towards them. I know you’re still recovering from Tim and Sasha’s deaths but I can’t excuse you lashing out.”

“If anything _he_ was the one to lash out at me,” Jon defends.

“Yes, well do try to be more courteous to the statement givers. I’d rather not have to keep fielding these complaints.”

“I will try, is that all?”

“No, I wanted to check in with you on your search for new assistants since we’re seeing each other anyway.”

“Ah, yes,” Jon says shifting uncomfortably.

“I know you’re still grieving but I think it would be best if you looked into some of the CVs I sent you. Having a person or three to do research would give you more time to record statements.”

Little did Elias know, Jon was pulling double duty with his home recorder and Gertrude’s tapes when he wasn’t watching Institute donor-funded poker matches.

“I’ll get right on that,” Jon says instead.

“Good, see that you do,” Elias says and waves Jon out of his office.


	4. The Archivist Unlocks Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets caught stalking Elias, gains three new nightmares, and gets into Gertrude's laptop.

The next of Gertrude’s tapes Jon listens to is the statement of Mary Keay. A woman as delightful as her appearances in previous statements would indicate. She talks about her first Leitner and Jon feels almost jealous. If his first Leitner had been full of ghosts instead of _A Guest for Mr. Spider_ he could have explored the paranormal (though not as brutally as Ms. Keay) instead of getting arachnophobia. What really intrigues him is the sound of a floorboard moving at the end, because it sounds like the loose one in his office.

Under the loose floorboard are a laptop and a key. He mentally kicks himself for not listening to this tape sooner but he’s been avoiding going into his stockpile of tapes in order to put off going back into the tunnels. He has no clue what the key opens but the laptop should be helpful. Sasha would be able to crack it open in no time but all he has is himself; unless he can find a tech-savvy person with no connection to the Institute at all who would be willing to break into a laptop for him.

It’s easy enough to allocate some of the Archival budget to placing an ad for statements on the internet and if the sites Jon puts the ad on are ones frequented by people who would know how to break into the laptop of a dead woman, well that’s just a happy coincidence. In the meantime, Jon continues to sort statements by theme as he reads them. It just makes so much sense this way; even if some of the statements are from wildly different dates and areas.

This system only works well if no one comes in to give a live statement but Jon is glad when Jordan Kennedy comes in to make his statement. Mr. Kennedy was part of the crew that dealt with the aftermath of Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Institute and hearing him say she's truly dead reassures Jon, if only slightly. His actual statement makes Jon want to take a bath in bleach and the skin clawing sensation makes it impossible to get much work done the rest of the day. The nightmare it leads to is terrible but not as bad as Martin Blackwood’s spidery thread pulling of Marcus Wilson. He still can’t _do_ anything to help any of the people in his nightmares and he’s reminded of Antonio Blake’s statement. He doesn’t want to just give up on trying to help them, even if they are just dreams.

Jon’s continued surveillance of Elias remains shockingly boring so he decides to change his methods by creeping closer to his house than he has before. Clearly whatever Elias was getting up to was happening inside his house. He realizes this is a mistake when Elias comes out in a dressing gown to see him in the bushes.

“Jon!” He calls out looking anachronistic in his regency nightwear and his modern torch. “Come out of those bushes.”

Jon walks out of the bushes and looks at his shoes like a child about to be scolded.

“I don’t suppose there’s a _rational_ reason you're in my garden at this hour?”

“I...I was worried.”

“Worried?”

“About you, after the Prentiss attack.”

“You were worried about me after the Prentiss attack,” Elias repeats slowly. “So you hide in my bushes at four in the morning two months later? This isn’t healthy, Jon. I know Tim and Sasha were your friends but you’re no more to blame for their deaths than I am.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“I’d rather not have to involve the police but if continue this way, I will.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go home, Jon.”

Jon decides at the very least to back off of stalking Elias at this point in his investigation. He has nothing to show the police that wouldn’t put him in far more trouble and he’d like to avoid being a murder suspect. He decides instead to focus on Gertrude’s time as Archivist and the tapes he has left from his previous tunnel excursions.

Before his ads can bring in someone to look break into Gertrude’s laptop for him Melanie King returns to the Archives.

“Excuse me, are you busy?” She asks after knocking. It’s been some time since he’s seen her in person but she doesn’t look much different from how she looks in his dreams every night. All of his frustration with his nightmares and his frustration with her the last time they met mingles itself in his head.

“Miss King! Erm...I am, actually so if you’re just here for another shouting match I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere,” he says shortly.

“Are both of your assistants out sick or something?”

“They’re dead, actually,” Jon snaps. **“Did you have a statement?”**

“Actually I...” She begins then something in her expression changes. “Yeah, I do.”

Jon prepares and takes out the tape recorder. She sits and tells him about how she broke into a train graveyard and got stabbed by what she called a “war ghost.” She even shows him the bandaged up wound from a scalpel she gets from her altercation with one. When here statement ends she blinks at Jon in confusion.

“I didn’t come to give a statement,” she says slowly. “I came to ask for your help.”

“Really? Me and my Archive full of… ’any ridiculous story, from any drugged-up, dreaming, traumatized idiot off the street.’” Jon replies, the angry fear of the statement mixing with his already poor feelings towards her. 

“Look, I just need you to vouch for me to have access to the library,” she says sharply. “I don’t exactly have the credentials to get in on my own and you’re the only person here that I know.”

“No,” Jon says simply. He can imagine Melanie in Sasha and Tim’s place if he lets her spend more time here. Even if he doesn’t like her she doesn’t deserve to get eaten by worms or dragged around by a spider monster.

“You know, Georgie had quite a few good things to say about you, but I guess you just _grew into_ the immense prick you are now.”

“Oh,” Jon says softly. He didn’t expect Georgie to have anything nice to say about him after they broke up. Still, that gives him more of an incentive to keep Melanie away from all of this. “That was some years ago and you knowing my _ex_ from uni doesn’t change my answer.”

Melanie makes an exasperated noise and storms out of his office. He’ll see her tonight, anyway. He does, twice, and both times he tries to push her away from the danger. Both times does nothing to help.

His ads for someone tech-savvy do eventually yield him a person with a real statement. He doesn’t know why but he’d prefer to ask Tessa Winters for help getting into Gertrude’s laptop than the gentleman who comes in claiming to have obtained an _actual_ copy of smiledog.jpg. Her statement is based on another internet horror story, one about a man, Sergey Ushanka, who uploaded his consciousness into a computer. Ms. Winters describes getting haunted by a seventeen-hour video of Ushanka eating his computer on every screen she looked at and Jon _knows_ it belongs in the same section as Helen Richardson’s statement, despite not being about Michael.

Ms. Winters also happily unlocks Gertrude’s laptop when he tells her it’s his and that he’d just forgotten the passcode. She does ask him about the missing charger but he lies and says he must have left it at his flat.


	5. The Archivist Meets a Librarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon does a B&E, has a few more nightmares, gets an ultimatum, and has a compelling conversation.

Jon breaks into Gertrude’s flat. Due to the nature of her “disappearance”, it hasn’t been rented yet and appears to be totally untouched. Inside he finds the laptop’s charger which he promptly puts in his bag. He explores her flat to find that she had only a few books and all of them have their eyes cut out. He lets out a humorless laugh, he feels just as watched here as he does everywhere else these days. Whatever is watching doesn’t need the photographic eyes of some author to see him and he doubts it helped Gertrude much, either. Still, there’s something to be said about the placebo effect and she clearly knew things he didn’t.

He looks into Gertrude’s laptop once he gets home. It doesn’t yield up any clear answers as to why Elias or the thing in the tunnels killed her. She seemed to be well-traveled, with her email full of airline ticket confirmations to countries on every continent but Antarctica. No diary but nothing is ever that simple. She did keep financial records for large orders for things like petrol and bug spray which gives Jon an inkling that she may have known about Prentiss or things like Prentiss. She at least seemed to know better than to have assistants; unless she lost hers in a similarly painful lesson to his own. Her email also contains confirmations for the purchases of several Leitners: _The Seven Lamps of Architecture_ , _A Disappearance_ , and (most troubling of all) _The Key of Solomon_. He hopes she bought them to destroy but it’s just as likely she kept them to use or, worse yet, they were lost in the mail. To his great irritation, he finds proof that the mess of an archive she left him was totally deliberate based on her purchasing labels for every filing system known to academia. Maybe she knew Elias was plotting to kill her and she’d done it to spite him. Maybe if the archive had been ordered he could have been aware and prepared for Jane Prentiss’s attack.

A minor mercy of living in London is that he takes the tube everywhere instead of having to drive. Meaning he can avoid sleep and nightmares without risking falling asleep at the wheel. It’s impossible to fall asleep while reading statements and research fills him with a kind of fervor that outmatches caffeine. He decides it’s a better idea to just start staying in the archive instead of traveling back and forth. The cot he sets up in document storage doesn’t stave off the nightmares and he starts to hope that no new live statements come in.

He gets no such luck. Karolina Górka comes in with her statement and it doesn’t even occur to him to just have her write it down. He sits and he listens and he fears with her. That night after he tries to at least block Tessa’s view of Sergay eating his keyboard and fails he’s with Karolina in the underground. The crushing helplessness he _knows_ she feels mirrors his own when he wakes up. He’s grateful the archives has its own shower so he can scrub and scrub at the dirt that isn’t really there.

He tries looking into statements of a similar genre, for lack of a better term, to the ones in his nightmares. The information he gets would _maybe_ be helpful if he was personally attacked by whatever came after his statement givers, but he doubts it will do much good with dreams. It’s not as if he could contact them to give them fun tips and tricks after their experience, anyway. Especially given how few of them would likely want anything to do with him. He still can’t bring himself to look into cases about spiders or manipulation. It leaves an awful, cobwebby taste in his mouth to read those so for now Marcus Wilson would have to face Martin Blackwood alone in Jon’s dreams. They were only Jon’s dreams, anyway. He can’t fathom how he would feel if he was sharing them with the statement givers.

Over the next weeks of living in the Archive, Jon finds that his dietary habits are returning to what they were when he was in uni. Which is to say that when he remembers to eat it’s almost always microwave ramen or something else that takes less than 5 minutes to make. It’s during one of these 3 pm first meals of the day that Elias comes to speak with him in the break room.

“Jon, I knew I would find you here,” he says like it’s an inside joke with himself.

“Hello Elias, I was just having...lunch,” Jon greets while motioning to his microwaved noodles.

“Yes,” Elias dismisses. “I came down because it’s been four months and you still haven’t given me any plan to hire new assistants. I’m starting to think you’ve just been ignoring the emails I sent you.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… I’ve been busy.”

“You would be far less busy if you had some assistants to share your load. If you’re uncomfortable with hiring _internally_ for whatever reason we can always start looking outside of the Institute. Melanie King is probably job searching since Ghost Hunt UK disbanded…”

“No! I mean…”

“If you aren’t going to hire new assistants, then I’ll just go over your head,” Elias says firmly. “You have until Monday afternoon to at least conduct interviews with someone from the Institute or I’m putting out a job listing.”

“Will you be telling people what happened to the previous assistants? Or Gertrude?” Jon replies with more irritation than he means. Elias gives him a look that pins him in place for a moment before making to leave.

“Monday afternoon,” he says pleasantly before leaving Jon alone with his noodles. Jon checks his phone for the first time that day to realize it’s Thursday afternoon. He needs to find out why Gertrude was killed and find evidence against Elias in the next three days. Meaning he would have to go back into the tunnels.

The last tape he’s stockpiled from his last trip into the tunnels isn’t helpful. Gertrude mentions something called a “NotThem” and a statement by Adelard Dekker which Jon, much to his surprise given the state of the Archive, finds and also records. Apparently, Mr. Dekker had found a way to make or use a “web” to keep the NotThem bound. He makes the connection to one of the earliest statements he read about a woman’s neighbor with an odd table who got replaced but unless Gertrude Robinson was replaced and Elias had killed Not-Gertrude it didn’t help him at all.

One Friday evening he buys an ax. It is remarkably easy to buy an ax in central London and he intends to use it to defend himself against whatever is in the tunnels. Much to his terror and frustration, his map seems to be _wrong._ Not only that but he’s more disoriented than he’s been in the tunnels before. Had Michael done something to them? It was clearly connected to it in some way but he’s not brave enough to call for it. Instead, he just flips his map over and starts making a new one. It still doesn’t make sense and the incline he’s at makes him _certain_ he should be level with the Institute.

After a stairway, four doors to nowhere, and sixteen consecutive left turns Jon feels a presence. Not like the thousand eyes watching him he’s grown used to; whatever it is it’s... sort of foggy. His first instinct is to assume Michael but as far as he can tell Michael isn’t this subtle. There’s a fork in the path and Jon is drawn to take the left-hand passage. It leads him past three doors to nowhere and one he finally opens.

Inside the room is a frail-looking old man. Apparently homeless given the state of his clothes and not in a good state seeing as he totally ignores Jon in lew of reading a small pamphlet.

“Excuse me?” Jon calls softly. He puts the ax down out of the man’s eye line which is probably a good idea since them man jumps out of his skin at the sound of Jon before just staring at him. “My name is Jonathan Sims. Do you need help?”

“I believe we may be able to help each other, actually,” the man replies. He seems more real now that he’s stopped reading the pamphlet. “I used to help Gertrude before her untimely death I was...a collector of sorts. My name is-”

“Jurgen Leitner,” Jon says although he doesn’t know _how_ he knows that. A logical conclusion possibly but he can’t quite see the train of thought that would have lead him there. “You’re...not what I was expecting.”

“Ah, I suppose not. My family emigrated when I was very young. English was always my first language. I used to adopt an accent sometimes when meeting people, a sort of personal joke, but truth be told, my Norwegian is terrible,” Leitner replies. The accent hadn’t been the unexpected thing, it hadn’t occurred to him until Jurgen mentioned it. What _was_ unexpected was everything else. Jon had always imagined Jurgen Leitner as a terrible figure, even a monster when he was younger, but before him was just a tired old man. A tired old man who may have killed Gertrude Robinson and was certainly responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people. He had a statement. Jon doesn’t think he’d feel guilty about watching Jurgen suffer in nightmares.

“You’ll answer my questions, first,” Jon says sternly. Leitner agrees and Jon is tempted to bring him back up to his office. Leitner protests, citing the danger of Elias, and Jon agrees to stay in Leitner’s room to take his statement. He explains the pamphlet he was reading hides him from everyone and he was surprised Jon could see him. He also reveals that _he_ was the one who had rearranged the tunnels. Apparently, he had assumed something had happened to Jon after the last time he went down to collect tapes from Gertrude and wanted to cover his tracks in case Elias came down.

As Leitner goes on about his library Jon feels himself getting angrier. Leitner _knew_ the books were dangerous but instead of destroying them he had the hubris to believe he could keep them contained. Jon asks how many assistants Leitner lost in his pursuit of cursed books and Leitner doesn’t even have a number. Death after needless death all so Leitner could play at _librarian_. When he starts talking about what made the books Jon asks and asks and _asks._ He can feel Leitner’s fear and see his exhaustion but he has to _know_. About Robert Smirke (if only Tim was still alive to find out about this), about the 14 Dread Powers, about their avatars, about how the Institute serves the Eye, and about how he, The Archivist, was on a direct path to avatarhood. Leitner can only answer so much. Several times in their conversation he begins to protest only to interrupt himself and keep going. By the time Leitner had finished, he was looking up at Jon in terrified confusion.

“Who killed Gertrude?” Jon asks finally.

“Elias,” Leitner rasps.

“Why?”

“I believe she wanted to burn down the Archives. She wasn’t...as close to the Beholding as you.”

Jon doesn’t ask what he means. Instead he asks, “you wanted my help?”

“I was hoping you would be willing to help me refill my food stores?” Leitner asks Jon feels slightly gobsmacked. Leitner really is just another beggar except _this_ beggar had destroyed an untold number of lives.

“If you re-arrange the tunnels so I have easy access to Gertrude’s room and spend _some_ time outside reclaiming your old books then I’ll bring you some canned goods,” Jon sighs. Something he can do to make some kind of difference. He feels exhausted and strangely satisfied.

“I...yes, you have my word,” Jurgen agrees. Jon lets himself be led back to the Institute. He doesn’t bother to change his clothes he just collapses into his cot and cries from exhaustion until nightmares claim him.


	6. The Archivist Meets a Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a bad eldritch-powers hangover, he confronts Elias, has a terrible solution for his lack of archival assistants, and becomes a guest for a spider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs for Martin's statement:  
> Emotional manipulation (ie guilt tripping)  
> Child neglect/abuse  
> Suicide

Jon wakes up in the dark with his pants soiled and body screaming at him to drink and eat something. He takes out his phone light his way and reads the date and time. It’s Monday morning. More specifically it’s 1 am on Monday morning which would explain why Jon’s entire body was screaming at him and why his bladder and bowels had seen fit to evacuate themselves while he slept. Now he only had around eleven hours to prove Elias is guilty and he can’t just use the testimony of Jurgen Leitner. Not when Jon had been all over the crime scene.

He doesn’t know what to do. So he cleans himself and the cot up first. It’s disgusting but thankfully it’s his own mess and he can throw the sheets away outside with most of the evidence once he showers. He doesn’t remember the last time he shit himself or wet the bed and it’s an awful walk of shame to the shower squared away in the far corner of the archive with his head still pounding after whatever happened with Leitner. It had all been a blur with Leitner willing to answer questions but looking so horrified in doing so. The hot water of the shower helps a bit but he would really like to be able to take a day. Except he can’t. Not when things like what killed Tim and Sasha were running around out there. Not when Elias wanted to drag more innocent people into the Archive; he had to stop that.

The Eye or the Beholding doesn’t just come down to tell him anything. It wouldn’t, from the sounds of it. Jurgen hadn’t known nearly enough to actually help people unless Jon wanted to use books from his library. The balance theory _sounded_ good but what the hell was the opposite of The End? It seemed like The Eye was the opposite of two or three Dread Powers. This was ridiculous. He had all this new information but none of it helped him.

Right now he needed to figure out a way to stall Elias from hiring anyone new. He had an inkling Elias might _know_ if he just lied about putting his own feels out for new hires. Jurgen had mentioned avatars. People who served the Dread Powers so closely that they almost became them. Maybe he could convince Elias to let him hire other avatars. As long as it wasn’t an avatar of one of the Eye’s “opposites” it should be fine.

“Good morning, Jon,” Elias says pleasantly when Jon comes into his office. “How did meeting Jurgen Leitner go? I must admit I was concerned that you having access to him would...stunt your growth. Let you know too much too early. Although I must admit you’re progressing much faster than I expected.”

“So you deliberately hid things from me?” Jon asks.

“I just...let you work things out on your own.”

“Why? So I would be a better _servant_ for the Eye?”

“Something along those lines, yes.”

“What if I don’t want to be a servant of the Eye?”

“I’m afraid you’ve already chosen this path. In a hundred ways, at a hundred thresholds, you pressed on. You sought knowledge relentlessly, and you always chose to see. Our world is made of choices, Jon, and very rarely do we truly know what any of them mean, but we make them nonetheless.”

“I didn’t _choose_ for Tim and Sasha to die. You did.”

“Their deaths were an unavoidable tragedy. On that subject, I believe you wanted to speak with me about their replacements?”

Jon takes a deep breath and explains his plan to hire avatars. Elias’ eyes light up a worrying amount.

“Alright, you can go out to look for avatars to become your assistants. It will be good for your development. I would prefer you to look into the Unknowing.”

“The Unknowing?”

“Yes the Stranger is attempting to amass power and bring the world closer to it. I’d like you to stop it.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll be much help on that front will you?”

“I have offered several times to get you new assistants but I take your meaning. If I just told you everything you wouldn’t powerful enough to stop it.”

“Fine,” Jon says shortly, moving to leave.

“Oh, and Jon?”

“Yes?”

“Do try to pace yourself. You don’t want a repeat of this weekend.”

Jon spends the remainder of the day searching for statement follow-ups that gave him the actual physical addresses of potential avatars but the only one he finds that’s reasonably current is Martin Blackwood. It would be a spider monster, wouldn’t it? Still, it was a place to start and it wouldn’t draw anyone else into this nightmare.

On Tuesday he stands across the street from Martin Blackwood’s house. He _knows_ he’s inside. The house itself is totally unassuming. It looks exactly like every other house on the road. Jon doesn’t know how to prepare himself to go in but he has to know. So he walks up to the front door. _It’s polite to knock._

He doesn’t have to knock. Jon’s hand is suspended midway in the attempt to knock when Martin opens the door. He isn’t the horrific spider monster from Jon’s dreams. He looks no different than he did in his Facebook profile: soft, handsome, and a little bit disarming with the amused look on his face.

“Hello, Archivist,” Martin says. “Do come in. It’s a shame you can’t talk.”

Jon tries to open his mouth but it feels like it’s been bound up in web. His feet move like they’re being tugged by invisible threads into Martin’s living room. He tries to fight it off but he quickly finds himself sitting on Martin’s sofa.

“‘Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,’” Martin quotes and laughs at Jon’s nervous face. “Sorry, it’s just not often that a fly walks up to my door. I’ve never considered myself much of a trap door spider. Why are you here, Archivist? Did a fly come in with a statement?”

Jon struggles, but he still can’t talk.

“Oh, right. You can talk but you can’t ask questions.”

“T-thank you,” Jon says. He tries to remember what he was going to say and several long moments. “A man came in to tell me about you, yes, but that not why I’m here. I actually came to ask questions. I can-can just go if you prefer. Sorry to have disturbed you.”

“You do seem polite,” Martin says. “I’ll tell you what, I let you ask me one question if you tell me who came to you about me.”

There’s another long, tense silence. Jon weighs his options, he needs to know more about being an avatar and he certainly won’t learn it from Elias but Marcus Wilson will have to deal with Martin again if Jon says anything, but Jon is working for the greater good and Martin hadn’t killed him the first time. He thinks a silent apology before saying:

“It was Marcus Wilson,” Jon says nervously. “I’d like to record what you say as well.”

“I don’t know who that is. They all sort of blend together after a certain point, you know?” Martin says and Jon is both horrified and relieved. Horrified that this man is so callous with the lives he’s ruined and relieved that Marcus is in no further danger. “You can record what I say. Can’t say I really care.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” Jon says. When he looks through his bag the recorder is already on. He must have bumped it. He _knows_ that isn’t the case. “I wanted to ask why you chose the Web?”

“It doesn’t quite work like that. It’s more like the Web chose me.”

“Alright, Statement of Martin Blackwood regarding how the Web chose him. Statement recorded 2nd November 2016. Statement begins:”

“People rarely consider how their lives are shaped so much by the choices of other people. For instance when I chose Wilson was it? I chose Wilson to be the latest in a long line of people to tug along in my web until I got bored it was because _he_ that chose first. He chose to walk into that lift or that bar or that part of town where I met him. You’re here, Archivist, because of choices Wilson and an incalculable number of others took on a single day.

I don’t know exactly when the Web chose me but I know whose choices led me to it.

My father _chose_ to leave when I was eight years old because of my mum’s diagnosis. It was likely only ever an excuse to leave. I remember the screaming matches long before I could talk. It’s more of a curiosity that he chose to stay as long as he did. Perhaps my mother chose to poke holes in a condom to use me to make him stay. Social pressure to “take responsibility” had always been her guilt card of choice with me. Whatever she did to keep him obviously didn’t work and she _chose_ to take that hurt out on me. I tried my best not to take it to heart because she was my mum, I knew she loved me. I was just never a good enough son. I was supposed to take care of her, that was the whole reason people had children she once told me. To have someone to care for them when they’re old and infirm. Clearly, I was my father’s child looking for the easiest way out of responsibilities.

Whatever affection she withheld I sought in other people. I tried the best I could to get others to like me. It worked sometimes I would play a good little puppet so I could have friends for a while. Never for long, though. My deep interest in spider showed through or my eagerness to please became too much or something would fail and I would be alone. As I got older I got better at knowing what people wanted and how to tell them that for my benefit. I could lie my way into jobs that should have looked harder at my CV or age and I did because I felt I had to. I _chose_ to manipulate people around me so I could help my mum. 

I still had to drop out. You can only puppet people so far and we couldn’t afford to eat if I didn’t keep three jobs. Even then we would have to sell the house. 

While I was going through the attic deciding what to sell I found some old photos. Mum had gotten rid of all the pictures of Dad in the house but I sort of hoped I could at least find out what he looked like. Put a face to what was by then a familiar resentment.

I did find pictures of him. I look _exactly_ like him. At that moment I realized that whatever choices I made or actions I took she would always see me as my father. Never Martin. I just lay down in the attic for a while. I let the spiders crawl all over me and they spun a web around me as I lay there and cried. I half hoped they were going to eat me like any other pest but they didn’t. Instead they showed me the web that led me there. All the little choices my mum, my dad, the plumber, the baker, the butcher, the candlestick maker, and anyone else on earth made that led me to be alone and unloved in an attic covered in spider webs. So many thoughtless choices dragged me onto a path of loneliness and people-pleasing, so I made my own choice. I chose the Web. I chose not to play at being _her_ loving son anymore.

I came down to her room with the pictures of my dad and I confronted her. She didn’t deny it. She even accused me of sounding like him when I raised my voice.

Manipulation is easier when people think they have a choice and I gave her one. I didn’t know I could spin, then, but I spun her a choice. I told her she could either start treating me as her son and not the man who _left us_ or she could pick a bottle and upend it into her mouth.

She chose the pills.

I got better at spinning after that. I could spin someone up so tightly in my web they didn’t even know how they got there. It’s fun to take some sneering bastard and puppet him along until he’s left destitute. So totally unaware of how his own choices led him into my web that he’s not sure how or when I started puppeteering him.

Fear is what states people like us, Archivist. I don’t get by on robbing people. I get by on forcing a choice on them so imperceptibly that they aren’t quite sure who put the thought in their head.”

Jon can taste cobwebs and feel all the fear of being robbed of free will he’s come to associate with Web statements but something is different. His face is wet. Open resentment from one’s guardian is familiar to him but the feeling of it from Martin reopens wounds he thought had scarred over years ago.

“Not what you were expecting, was it?” Martin asks, handing him a tissue. “I wasn’t expecting that, either. It’s weird having your secrets pulled from you like that.”

“I don’t understand,” Jon replies, taking the tissue to wipe his eyes.

“When you _ask_ it rather compelling to answer, Archivist,” Martin explains. Jon feels the color drain from his face. “Did you really not know?”

“I-I’m sorry I just... I thought...I can get rid of the recording if you like,” Jon rushes to explain. Martin huffs a laugh.

“You are a very strange avatar of revealed secrets. I let you ask so no harm done.”

“Thank you, for everything. I-if I’m not pushing the bounds of your hospitality there’s one more thing I’d like to talk about.”

Martin looks at him with amusement for a moment.

“Only if you continue to ask no questions. I’m not in the mood to tell you about the time a teacher caught me in the bathroom with my hand down someone else’s pants,” he says finally. Then, at Jon’s face, “It’s a joke, Archivist.”

“Right,” Jon says uneasily. “Er...you can call me Jon, but that’s not what I wanted to mention. I’m actually looking for Archival Assistants. I want those assistants to be _avatars_ so I don’t drag any more innocents into….this.”

Martin laughs at him. It’s a good hard belly laugh that would make Jon laugh on principle if this were any other context.

“You’re serious?” he says when he finally stops laughing. “Imagine it, Jon. Me coming into your office every day with a cup of tea and a freshly typed up report.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything from you,” Jon elaborates quickly. “I just don’t want Elias to drag anyone else into this nightmare.”

“The answer is still no, Jon,” Martin says firmly. “I can direct you to another avatar since this whole interaction has been so very amusing. Not of the Web. He’s into the Vast and a bit bookish to boot.”

“I would really appreciate it, thank you,” Jon replies gratefully.


	7. The Archivist Finds an Unlikely Assistant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has more nightmares, meets more avatars, checks out the Unknowing, and gains an "ally."

Jon picks up groceries for Jurgen on his way back to the Institute. He also buys a small generator in an attempted apology for unknowingly pulling Leitner’s memories out of him with terrible eldritch power. It takes some maneuvering but eventually he gets everything into the tunnels with a letter of apology. He’s tempted to go into Gertrude’s rooms for more tapes but he knows he’ll be more tempted to listen to them immediately and he’d rather focus his energy on avatar interviews this week.

Jon’s nightmares for the evening go as usual. He wishes he could get used to them but he can’t. He still feels the fear of the statement givers and he’s still helpless to save them. When he reaches Martin’s statement he does get a surprise. He had expected the same spider monster as the one in Marcus Wilson’s nightmare but it’s just Martin. He’s a bit younger, of course, and Jon’s heart breaks watching try to earn his mother’s love. He does everything he can to protect him from the spiders stringing him up in webs. Normally he wouldn’t get near a spider but now he’s stepping on them and tearing at the webs. Nothing happens. Nothing _ever_ happens. The nightmares are worth the price of knowing.

Jon’s interview with Mike Crew is very different from his interview with Martin. Partly because he leads with the archival assistant offer and gets laughed at for a solid minute. It certainly isn’t the first time he’s been laughed so he just ignores it but he gets sent into a freefall when he _asks_ Mike about his scar. He can’t really blame him for it of course. Who wants to have all of their secrets pulled out like that?

Still, Mike’s path to avatarhood is an interesting one. Unlike Martin and himself, Mike sought out the Vast and gave himself to it. The lightning monster had pushed him to it, of course, but he had the choice of a number of the Dread Powers. Maybe what Martin had said was true of all Dread Powers, maybe the Power had to choose first.

Mike is kind enough to point Jon in the direction of another avatar. A member of the Cult of the Lightless Flame. Jon doesn’t tell her where he got her number from when he meets Jude Perry at the cafe. She also doesn’t ask so has no reason to tell her. Jon is the one who _asks_ and he gets some advice in exchange. Advice for being an avatar which he doesn’t want to become but he sees the path ahead. He also gets 3rd-degree burns over most of his right hand for shaking hers and the nurse at the A&E doesn’t seem to believe he got those burns from a coffee machine.

Jude doesn’t point him in the direction of another avatar which Jon is almost grateful for after getting webbed, tossed, and burnt. He assumes Elias expected something like this would happen but if that smug pick thinks Jon will let him hire innocent human beings to be his assistants to avoid being an avatar punching bag he doesn’t know Jon very well. Hopefully, three interviews will at least keep him off Jon back while looks into this “Unknowing” thing.

Many of Gertrude’s more recent tapes mention the Unknowing. He had listened to many of them without properly understanding what they meant but with his new knowledge of the Dread Powers, he can actually properly do research into it.

Elias is nice enough to leave a statement on his desk with a note reading “this should clarify somethings.” It doesn’t. It’s a Corruption statement but it mentions Breekon & Hope. They seem to crop up in a lot of statements so Jon elects to look into them. He _knows_ there’s a statement from the real Breekon given in 1996. It had been misfiled with statements from _18_ 96 but the mess Gertrude made before her murder doesn’t seem to be an issue for Jon anymore. He has to laugh. Gertrude tried so hard to fight the Eye and yet it made no difference as far as Jon could tell. If anything she helped it. Forcing the new Archivist to be more viciously knowledge-seeking certainly helped him draw nearer to it.

Alfred Breekon’s statement does confirm that the Strangers calling themselves Breekon & Hope are connected with the Circus of the Other. He goes to the Breekon & Hope Depot in Newcastle but all he discovers is what’s left of Alfred’s body. He leaves an anonymous call to the police on his way back to the Institute. It isn’t the body that bothers him, it’s that he was just left there for who knows how long.

The New Year comes up quicker than he expects. He wants to ignore it and keep working but Tim and Sasha didn’t deserve to be alone on New Year’s. So he drops what he’s doing and heads to the cemetery. He brings flowers for both of them and he sits by Sasha’s grave first to tell her what he learned about the Dread Powers.

“You would do so much better than me at this,” he tells her. “I wouldn’t wish this on you but I think together this would all be easier. You wouldn’t have to sneak past firewalls to just know people’s secrets.”

Sasha’s grave stays silent.

“Yeah, I know it’s surprising but being tied to an evil god _does_ actually have its perks. Like when I go shopping and _know_ exactly how the cashier’s grandmother died. It’s the highlight of my week.”

Sasha’s body isn’t even _in_ the grave. It had to be burned to prevent contamination. Maybe that’s why she’s such a terrible conversationalist now.

“Anyway, I’m going to go say hi to Tim. Happy New Year.”

Tim’s grave is just as silent and empty but Jon can imagine Tim’s voice saying, _”Flowers for me? Careful boss, who knows how HR will take this.”_

“I miss you. You know?” He says to the headstone. “Sorry, I….I wanted to let you know. Smirke was into some… rather interesting stuff.”

Jon sits and tells Tim about the Dread Powers and Smirke’s Architecture. Tim is silent.

“I don’t get out much anymore now. I don’t have any more assistants and well, you know I’m not much of a people person. I’ve been trying for a while with other avatars but most of them are more prickly than me. Just total assholes the lot of them.”

Tim’s grave doesn’t laugh.

“This is what I’m doing on New Year’s Eve. Sitting in a graveyard talking to my dead friends,” Jon sighs. “Maybe you can finally introduce me to your brother?”

Jon turns to Danny Stoker’s grave. Tim didn’t talk about him much. All Jon really knew was that he had died before Tim had joined the Institute. Now he _knows_ what happened. The Stranger took him. The Stranger took Danny and the Corruption to Tim and Jon feels a spike of rage at the universe.

“I’m going to avenge him for you,” he promises to Tim. “It’s the least I can do after I dragged you into this mess.”

Michael laughs.

“I’m really not in the mood, Michael,” Jon snaps. He looks around for the source of the noise but doesn’t see anything until Michael turns itself out of its door on the ground and onto the ground.

“Mood for what? Talking to a….how did you put it? “Prickly” avatar? Or are you not _actually_ in the mood for avenging poor Danny Stoker?”

“Is there something you wanted? Come to remind me how I failed my assistants yet again? Maybe come replace one of them?”

Michael shifts itself in a more human form and it has an unsettling look on its face.

“Maybe I will,” it says after a very long silence. “Just to see if you’re willing to make the sacrifices Gertrude did.”


	8. The Archivist Visits the  Spider Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon deals with his new assistant, gets another statement, and get some "advice" from Martin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Spiders  
> Suicidal Ideation

Jon doesn’t know what he expects when he leaves document storage in the morning after he hires the Distortion to be his assistant but all the shelves arranged like a maze certainly isn’t surprising. He’s even less surprised at the email Elias sends him demanding Jon come to his office and see him _now._ A smug, obnoxious part of Jon decides to let Elias stew in it for a bit longer while he fact checks Jurgen Leitner’s book list.

His arrangement with Leitner is this: Leitner comes up from the tunnels and leaves a note on his desk detailing the books he’s found, their natures, and how they were disposed of along with a shopping list for Jon and Jon brings Leitner back what he needs. As much as Jon pities Leitner he still doesn’t trust him. So he does his best to look into the books Leitner lists and he’s finding it easier and easier not to have to search for them with his computer. Chalk another point up to the Eye for occasional usefulness.

After confirming the destruction of a copy of _The Picture of Dorian Gray _marked by the End, Jon pockets the list and heads to Elias’ office. He doesn’t bother knocking.__

__“When I gave you permission to find avatar assistants I had assumed you would be more...selective,” Elias says as soon as Jon opens the door._ _

__“I was selective,” Jon replies. “Michael is the only avatar who has never threatened to kill me.”_ _

__“The Spiral is also the antithesis of the Eye. Look at what the Distortion has done to the Archives.”_ _

__“It’s no worse than what Gertrude did.”_ _

__“You’re behaving like a child, Jon. Do you really think you can get back at me by making your life more difficult?”_ _

__“Is there _actually_ something you wanted from me or are you just going to question my choice in archival assistants?”_ _

__“If I can’t change your mind about the Distortion then I suppose I can at the very least direct you to a more...interesting potential assistant.”_ _

__“Jude Perry already said no.”_ _

__“I believe you have heard of Alfred Grifter,” Elias continues, pulling a band flyer out of his desk. “He’ll be performing later this month if you’re interested in recruiting him.”_ _

__“No to the Spiral but yes to the Slaughter?” Jon asks._ _

__“He’s the least likely to kill you,” Elias points out. “That’s all for today. Unless you need me to hold your hand in stoping the Unknowing?”_ _

__Plenty of questions sit at the tip of Jon’s tongue but he doesn’t ask them. He just bids Elias goodbye and returns to the Archive. On his way there a harrowed looking woman who runs up to him._ _

__“A-are you Jon?” She asks nervously. She has a statement._ _

__“Yes, how can I-?” Jon offers before she interrupts him._ _

__“I’m supposed to give you this,” she says, shoving a letter into his hands._ _

__“Thank you. **Would you like to come down and give a statement?** ” Jon _asks._ He can deal with the dreams. He just wants to _know._ The woman introduces herself as Jennifer Walker and waits patiently while Jon readies a tape._ _

__“Statement of Jennifer Walker regarding…”_ _

__“Spiders in my flat.”_ _

__“Statement of Jennifer Walker regarding spiders in her flat. Statement taken direct from subject, 14th January 2017. Statement begins:”_ _

__“I’ve always hated spiders. It’s the way they move. Too many legs making them move too quickly. When I was little my older brother thought it was hilarious to put his pet tarantula on my face when I was sleeping. Somehow I was the one who got shouted at by our parents for screaming but that wasn’t surprising. He was their golden boy who could do no wrong._ _

__Sorry, getting a bit side-tracked._ _

__This all started about a month ago. I was cleaning my flat and found a spider had been living under my sink. Normally I just crush the little buggers but this time I decided to take this one outside. When I finally wrangle the thing under a cup and get outside with it a man approaches me like he was waiting for me to show up._ _

__He says “lovely little creatures aren’t they?” and offers to take the spider. He just takes the thing out of the cup and lets it crawl into his hand. The guy even coos are the thing like it’s a cute puppy or something which is weird but I don’t really care what this stranger does with this random spider. Then he says “It would be such a shame if she froze out here. She works so hard keeping pest populations under control.”_ _

__He looks at me like I’m supposed to feel bad for bringing the thing outside in late December. I just kind of nod and make up an excuse about needing to get back to my flat._ _

__I didn’t really think much more about it until the following morning. Another spider was sitting in my medicine cabinet. I thought about dumping this one outside with its friend but I kept thinking about what the man said to me. It really would be such a shame for it to freeze and I could always just take it outside when it warms up a bit. I still wanted to squash it every time I opened the door, _especially_ when I saw those awful little legs moving around, but something stopped me each time._ _

__Then more and more spiders started appearing in my flat and each time I just let them be. Over the course of the next two days I found fourteen spiders living with me in my flat. I just did my best to avoid them. There were cupboards I just stopped opening._ _

__Coming in to work on Monday was a relief. At least I would be away from the creatures for a few hours._ _

__I was being too optimistic._ _

__I wasn’t at my desk for more than five minutes before yet another spider crawled out from under a stack of files on my desk. I just tried to ignore it at first but my cube mate, Jeff Weimer, saw it as soon as he turned around to ask to borrow yet another pen from me. He offered to squash the thing and I wanted to let him. Just keep my mouth shut and let him crush it under his shoe._ _

__My own voice said, “Leave her alone.”_ _

__He looked at me funny but didn’t say anything. Everyone in the office knew I hated spiders after an incident two Halloweens ago._ _

__It wasn’t until my boss, Rhys Morgan, came in and saw it. He offered to take the spider outside and I _screamed_ at him. I heard myself go on a whole tirade about how cold it is outside and how spiders are important to the ecosystem. I don’t even remember quitting. I just took the spider _in my hand_ and stormed out of the building._ _

__Guess who was waiting for my outside? The same man as before! Just pleasantly talking to me like we were friends or something. I even told him what happened with the spiders in my flat and he was so happy to hear._ _

__“Y’know, this might be for the best,” he tells me. “Give you more time to take care of the spiders you have at home.”_ _

__I didn’t even question it. He was right. I couldn’t be going out to get _more_ spiders when there were so many in my flat so I went home immediately._ _

__More and more spiders started showing up after that. I couldn’t even get to my dresser unless I wanted to disturb the webs of god knows how many spiders. Eventually, I had to disturb the webs all over everything in my cupboards so I could eat and as soon as I had taken a can they swarmed to close the web up. They covered everything, my sofa, my shower, my phone, my laptop, and worst of all, all the windows and the front door._ _

__I was terrified. I still wanted to squash them but I couldn’t because I was afraid they would retaliate. I spent two weeks alone in my flat and, as far as I know, no-one came to check on me._ _

__This morning I decided if I didn’t make a break for that I would probably die in that flat so I tore through the webs around my front door and ran out. The man was waiting for me again and he handed me that envelope and told me to give it to you.”_ _

__Her statement tastes like the Web._ _

__“Did the man ever say who he was?” Jon asks._ _

__“No, no…” She shakes her head. “You’re like him, aren’t you? Crawling up in people’s heads.”_ _

__She stands up and storms out before Jon can try to defend himself. Was he just like that avatar of the Web? Making some poor woman invite hundreds of eight-legged house guests to force her live in terror just feed his terrible master?_ _

__He tries to push the thought back and turns his attention to the envelope. It doesn’t appear to be full of spiders but he tries to _know_ at it anyway. Still no spiders so he decides to open it. Inside is a letter written in spidery handwriting that says, “If I knew you were going to watch my nightmares; I would have told you a better story -Martin.”_ _

__Jon feels his veins turn to ice. He wasn’t alone in his nightmares. He was pulling people’s worst fears from them and he was making them relive it nightly. No wonder so few people answered calls for follow-ups. At least Leitner would have to relive the deaths _he_ caused in his hubris; maybe it gave him the motivation to dispose of those books. The rest of them didn’t deserve nightmares. All Melanie had done was check to see if one of her coworkers was alright and now she was having two nightmares with him. He had essentially set a trap for Tessa Winters, no wonder she always looked at him with such hatred in the nightmare. He feels sick._ _

__His heart is pounding and it’s all he can hear as he stumbles to the bathroom to dry heave. He’s hyperventilating and crying in a bathroom stall desperately wishing he had taken a different path in life. One that didn’t leave so many others dead or suffering._ _

__He should apologize to them. Would they even want to hear from him? Would any of them believe that he truly did know what would happen? He hadn’t exactly been nice to most of them. Maybe he could politely ask Michael to cough Helen Richardson up long enough for him to apologize._ _

__

__The avatars in his dreams were probably furious but Mike and Jude at least seemed to be able to keep Jon out of their dreams. Whatever was stopping Martin probably made him furious enough to send Jon that letter with poor Ms. Walker. If he ever saw Jon again he’d probably kill him._ _

__

__He leaves the tapes of his investigation in the tunnels and makes Leitner promise he’ll share them with the new archivist _immediately_ if he doesn’t come back. It’s probably unwise but he asks Michael to scare people away from the archive while he’s gone and he goes to apologize to Martin._ _

__

__Martin is surprised to see him when he knocks on his door this time._ _

__“Hi Jon,” he says. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”_ _

__“Good afternoon Mr. Blackwood,” Jon says as pleasantly as he can. “I got your letter and I wanted to come apologize in person.”_ _

__“You can come in if you don’t ask any questions and please just call me Martin,” Martin replies. No threads pull Jon in this time and he just sits on the sofa under his own power._ _

__“I’m sorry I gave you nightmares, Martin. I genuinely didn’t know that would happen,” Jon says almost mechanically. He was expecting Martin to be scarier this time around but he’s _more_ pleasant than before. It’s even more unnerving._ _

__“Why?”_ _

__“You know I know very little about the powers the Eye has given me. It’s not like Elias tells me anything helpful.”_ _

__“No, I mean why do you feel sorry?”_ _

__“You don’t deserve nightmares of your childhood and had I known that would happen I wouldn’t have even _asked.”__ _

__“You’re a little late to stop me having nightmares of my childhood,” Martin laughs. “Like I said last time, I let you ask.”_ _

__“You didn’t have all of the information!”_ _

__“No one ever does. I still chose.”_ _

__“You sent me a letter,” Jon reminds him in lieu of the question he wants to ask._ _

__“I wasn’t asking for an apology. Honestly, I just wanted to see what you’d do. You’re going to have to get over that guilt if you’re going to keep walking the path you’re on.”_ _

__“I don’t want to be on this path.”_ _

__“So you came hoping I would take you off it?” Martin asks in a confused tone. Jon thinks for a long moment._ _

__“Someone would have to stop the Unknowing if I was gone,” he settles on._ _

__“ _Gone?_ Jon, did you expect me to kill you over a few bad dreams?”_ _

__“I...Well you _threatened_ to last time but now I...I don’t know. I think I was hoping you’d make the choice for me.”_ _

__Martin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose._ _

__“You still don’t get it, do you?” He asks after a long pause. “It’s always your choice. The woman with all the spiders in her flat _chose_ to take that letter to you because she was afraid I’d make her adopt more spiders. Just because you don’t know where the path will lead you or you have few other choices doesn’t mean you didn’t choose it.”_ _

__“You know,” Jon laughs weakly. “That _almost_ sounds like you’re trying to comfort me.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Telling me I picked this path because I had bad information. It just...sounds better than how Elias puts it. He frames it like it’s all my fault. As if I wanted Tim and Sasha to die or, or anything else that’s happened.”_ _

__“Well, since I’m giving you free advice I suppose I should tell you to just enjoy the path you’re on. You’re going to watch nightmares anyway. No real use in trying to comfort the people in them.”_ _

__“I...I can make it up to you,” Jon offers. It doesn’t really _feel_ like advice but it’s better than anything anyone else has told him._ _

__“If you’re ever ‘round again,” Martin replies. “I like a nice Lady Grey. If you bring a box or two next time we chat I’ll consider us even.”_ _

__“Oh, ok yeah,” Jon agrees. “Thank you, I suppose.”_ _

__The next time Jon sleeps, passed out on his desk, the dream of young Martin is gone. He only watches in all the other nightmares._ _


	9. The Archivist Goes to a Concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon goes to see Grifter's Bone, gets into a bar fight, and eats some trauma to heal up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Violence  
> Blood  
> Injury  
> Murder

The pub Grifter’s Bone is supposed to be playing at is surprisingly empty. Jon is grateful at the lack of potential victims of the Slaughter but he makes note of how many patrons are strangely dressed. Like they had been pulled from somewhere the same way Albert Sands had.

Not long after Jon sat down at a table near the door a person Jon assumes to be the only stagehand taps him on the shoulder.

“You The Archivist?” They ask. “Grifter wanted to see you before the show.”

Jon considers warning them about what is about to happen at the pub but decides against it. They probably think it’s just some random band trying to capitalize on Grifter’s fame and it’s unlikely they’ll listen to any warning he tries to give. He follows them backstage.

“So, why’re you called ‘The Archivist?’” They ask on the way. “Is that a stage name?”

“Something like that, yes,” Jon replies. He’s somewhat distracted with keeping an eye out for exits for when things inevitably go bad. The stagehand shows him past the other band members, whom Jon _knows_ are manifestations of the Slaughter and not avatars like Grifter, and into a back ally where a short, thin man in a brown suit is smoking.

“The Archivist’s here,” the stagehand announces before leaving Jon alone with Grifter.

“Thank you,” Grifter says. “Good evening, Archivist. Would you like a cigarette?”

“No, thank you,” Jon replies. “I quit a few years ago.”

“Ah, probably a wise choice. Tell me, what’s Elias’ latest project doing at one of my shows?”

“ **I wanted to ask about your band.** ”

Jon knows what he did as soon as the words come out of his mouth. Grifter makes an annoyed sound, steps on his cigarette butt, and takes a swing at Jon. It connects right at his mouth and splits his lip. He presses his sleeve to his mouth while his head is still ringing.

“Why the hell did I expect you to be civil? You want to know about my band then I’ll tell you. I hope you choke on it.

Do you know what the London music scene was like in the 60s? Exhausting. That’s what it was. Everyone just wanted to hear covers of Beatles songs. Sure, plenty of people did wind up properly famous but all my band wanted to play was bloody Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. It made me furious. Anytime I suggested maybe we should play some of our own music the frontman, I don’t even remember his name, would always say some bullshit about “knowing our audience better than me.”

I took way too long to kick that smug bastard’s ass.

Do you know how _fun_ it is to let loose on people who spend most of your life blowing you off? Who am I kidding? Of course, you do. That’s the whole reason anyone becomes an avatar. Just to have a little power over the people who made you feel powerless.

After that, the frontman quit and went on to be a semi-successful sales clerk before I killed him. The other two liked me enough to stick around and scared enough to let me change the band name. We played the music I wrote. It was all angry stuff. The kind that riled the audience up and made them want to fight anyone who looked at them funny.

Fights broke out so often that places banned us from performing. It must’ve annoyed my bandmates enough that decided enough was enough. They tried to get me to play different music but shouted them out. Now I was the one who was running the band into the ground and they needed to do something about it. So, they both jumped me in an alley behind our last gig.

People call it battle madness or blood drunkness but the rage I felt when I realized they had turned on me was _clarifying._ Like I was finally seeing the world as it really was. I remember every motion. Every punch. The moment I started fighting them off with their own instruments. The glorious way the blood sprayed when guitar neck met human neck. The exact sound the drummer’s head made when I smacked it into the concrete over and over again. It was the most beautiful song I had ever heard.

I don’t remember how I got home or if I disposed of the bodies. I just know that the next night I got a call about a gig. It was a place I knew we had been banned from but the owner just let me in and told me my bandmates were already setting up.

Only it wasn’t my bandmates. I killed them the night before. It was those two blokes you saw back there. They didn’t say a word they just let me introduce the band and when we started playing...It was the most beautiful sound in the world. The symphony of violence from the alleyway was back and it rang out in that tiny pub only to echo back to me in the form of the partons brutality.

It was the best night of my life and I get to relive it every time I play.”

“I do hope you stick around for the show,” Grifter says in false pleasantness while grabbing a fist full of Jon’s hair. “You wouldn’t want to miss it.”

“I don’t suppose you would consider the position of archival-ah,” Jon tries but Grifter just yanks him around harder. He drags Jon back inside the pub and nearly throws him at the bartender.

“Make sure my friend is comfortable. Wouldn’t want him missing the show.”

The bartender isn’t aligned as far as Jon _knows_ and Jon doesn’t know what he’d do if he actually tried to leave. He stays for the show anyway because he has to _know_ what the band sounds like. He doesn’t know if that desire comes from the Eye or some inward motivation but takes out a fresh tape for his recorder as Grifter’s Bone sets up their instruments.

The song they play is...atrocious to say the least. It’s horrifically discordant and it makes his blood start to boil. He wants to do violence on anyone in sight and before he can the bartender comes at him with a broken bottle. He jumps back enough to keep himself from getting eviscerated but his belly is still cut deep enough to be worrying. The pain is sharp enough to focus him on _running away_ instead of getting into a losing fight. He grabs the tape recorder and staggers out of the building.

He’s a shaking mess when he makes it to the A&E, nearly passed out from blood loss, and crying in fear and pain. He can’t focus hard enough to tell the nurse what happened to him but he _knows_ she has a statement. A statement would make him feel so much better and she probably already had nightmares. He asks and she tells him. Someone died while she was on duty and then woke up to take others out with them. She even shows the scar on her arm where they bit her.

With his wound healed he rushes back to the Institute without another word to anyone at the A&E. The scar from the bottle is still there but he can hide the bloodstains well enough on the tube by just zipping up his coat. It’s unlikely that even if someone noticed it would cause much of a fuss given how late it is.

When he gets back to the Institute he stands in the shower and wonders how Martin can possibly expect him to enjoy himself when he feels so guilty for the nightmares he knows the nurse will have because of him. Of course, Martin serves the Web; maybe his heart was replaced with cobwebs and spiders a decade ago. Maybe that makes it easier for him. Elias certainly didn’t seem to have any problem making people suffer for the Eye but Jon can’t imagine himself becoming so callus. He tries not to, anyway.

Over the coming week, he redoubles his efforts to look into the Unknowing which has become significantly harder since Michael started rearranging the shelves. The day Jon admits that Elias was right about anything, least of all his choice in archival assistants, is the day he starts drinking coffee; but he regrets asking Michael to be his assistant. He hasn’t even seen Michael since the last time he visited Martin but he hasn’t exactly been looking. Michael has been getting more and more physically painful to interact with, like their very states of being aren’t compatible. He decides ( _knows_ ) that the best course of action at his point in his investigation is to attempt to follow Gertrude’s travels in the final years of her life which has the added bonus of getting him away from Elias and Michael.


	10. The Archivist Travels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon goes to China and America, meets some familiar faces, and gets in trouble with Elias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Kidnapping  
> Assault

The trip to China goes surprisingly smoothly. Jon mostly attributes this to his Eye-granted skill in Mandarin. He doesn’t even notice that he’s speaking it until someone asks him when he learned Mandarin in what sounds to his ears as English. It’s unnerving to say the least. He doesn’t like that the Eye is literally putting words in his mouth or that he’s privy to conversations he isn’t meant to hear.

He _knows_ the statement Zhang Xiaoling hands him has nothing to do with the Stranger but he reads it, anyway. He tells himself it’s out of awkward politeness but in reality, he’s feeling a sort of craving for it. So he reads it and replenishes himself for the Eye.

The statement he actually wants was sent to an address in Chicago so Jon borrows a few statements from The Pu Songling Research Centre to keep himself from going into withdrawls. _Feed it...or it will feed on you._ He remembers Jude Perry saying. She burns and he just watches. The Eye just watches him no matter what he does but it can’t consume him. Not yet. Not until he saves the world from the Unknowing and gets his revenge on Elias.

It’s difficult to find breaks to read on the bus from Chicago to Washington, D.C. where Gertrude forwarded the statements to. It’s made even more difficult by the Stranger that has been following him since Chicago. He’s so preoccupied with avoiding the Stranger that he doesn’t notice the Hunter until she grabs him during a comfort break and stuffs him in her car. The Eye helpfully informs him that he’s been kidnapped by Julia Montauk instead of forewarning him that she was going to kidnap him. The Stranger catches up to them quickly and is dispatched by Trevor Herbert who had been hiding in the trunk.

They take him and the Stranger to a cabin several miles from the main road. He explains who he is and why he’s there. They don’t believe him at all until he _asks_ for Julia’s statement and he gets a blade to his throat “as a warning” from Trevor Herbert. He doesn’t warn her about the dreams.

The Stranger is nice enough to talk about the Unknowing. It’s nothing Jon doesn’t already know aside from Gertrude apparently stealing a skin needed for it and them needing a replacement which is said in a tone Jon very much doesn’t like.

Finally, he’s given a Leitner and left alone to speak to Gerard Keay who is irritated about being summoned. More so to find out that Jon is just “borrowing” him from the Hunters. Jon convinces him to help if Jon takes Gerard’s page and burns it. Jon isn’t even sure he’ll be able to burn the page, not when he _knows_ so much, but he promises. Gerard of all people deserves a proper rest. He directs Jon to a storage locker that the Eye should have told him about and gives a statement about his life. He even mentions a ritual for the Eye although Gertrude didn’t see fit to give him any details on how she planned to stop it. Destroying Elias’ ritual would make for excellent revenge after what Elias has put him through.

“How did Gertrude do it?” Jon asks with the time they have left.

“I’m gonna need you to be more specific,” Gerard replies. Jon sighs.

“How did she find a way to fight the Dread Powers without becoming...like, like _them?_ ” Jon asks, gesturing to the door.

“Gerry.”

“What?”

“I always wanted my friends to call me Gerry,” Gerry tells him nervously.

“Oh,” Jon says quietly. “Ok, Gerry. How did Gertrude prevent herself from becoming a, a monster?”

“Those are two very different questions you’re asking, Jon. You said it yourself, my mother was the village witch but she was never an _avatar_. Hell, Gertrude never gave herself fully to the Eye and she left bound me to this book. I don’t know how she avoided becoming an avatar. She didn’t talk much about being the Archivist, at least not to me,” Gerry explains. “Your best bet is an anchor. Someone or something to grounds you and reminds you of something other than the Dread Powers.”

“I-I don’t have anyone like that,” Jon admits. “My assistants were both killed last year and I...sort of pushed everyone else away.”

“That’s the best advice I have,” Gerry shrugs. “Maybe get a cat.”

“It’s better than anything else I’ve gotten. Thank you, Gerry. I mean it,” Jon says and holds Gerry’s gaze for a moment. He wants to shake his hand or hug him or something. Anything to remind himself that he’s still human, no matter where the path he’s on leads. “I...uh...I dismiss you.”

The Hunters let him leave. They won’t even look in the book until the next time they need Gerry which by their delight at having the Stranger’s head he doesn’t think will be anytime soon.

Elias is waiting for him went he gets back to the Institute.

“Hello, Jon,” he greets pleasantly. “How was the trip to America? That scar is new.”

“You already know that, don’t you?” Jon replies.

“I don’t know everything, Jon.”

“Then I suppose you’ll have to guess like the rest of us meager humans, won’t you?”

“Are you quite sure you count among “the rest” of humanity Jon?” Elias asks coolly. “You certainly had no trouble ripping the statement out of that poor nurse the other day. She came in while you were away, you know. She wrote down a statement and everything. I don’t think she realizes it’s the Head Archivist of this institute that...how did she put it? ‘Oggles her while the thing chews her like a bit of tough meat in her dreams.’ I’ll ask you to be more careful with how you take your statements as I’d rather not be on the receiving end of whatever kinds of complaints that could lead to.”

“Yes, fine,” Jon says. He can feel his face heat up in shame and indignation. Elias was such a hypocrite but now if he said anything he would be the one sounding hypocritical. “I was actually thinking of looking into Outer Bay Shipping. They have a warehouse in town that I believe could be connected to several entities.”

The face Elias makes is almost enough to make the hot shame wash away.

“I...You should be focused on the Unknowing,” Elias stammers.

“Don’t worry, I believe my investigations will help me,” Jon replies smugly. While he doubts he’ll be able to recruit an avatar of the Dark there is a chance the building itself holds some of Elias’ secrets to the tune of potentially getting him arrested.


	11. The Archivist Goes into the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon investigates that spooky warehouse, meets one of Elias' oldest acquaintances, and tries to compel Elias

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Kidnapping  
> Restraint  
> Child kidnapping  
> Loss of autonomy (due to kidnapping)  
> Child death  
> Victim blaiming

The warehouse doesn’t have much activity during the day which isn’t strange given how abandoned it looks. Still, it means Jon would have to sit outside of it in the cold February night hoping to see someone go in or out of it. He had at one point tried to look inside but the windows had been blacked out since the time he saw Elias playing poker there. He didn’t want to risk breaking in on who or whatever was inside and it was impossible to _know_ anything about what’s inside. It’s Dark as far as Jon can tell.

It’s nearly two in the morning when a car pulls up to the warehouse. Jon tries to trail behind the man that steps out but he’s impressively hard to see. It’s when Jon pulls back against a nearby building that he truly realizes his mistake. He doesn’t back into a wall.

“Sneaking around are we?” says the voice of the person he backed into. A person Jon was certain hadn’t been there before.

“Uh..no, no I-I was just having a smoke,” Jon stammers out.

“I don’t see a light in your mouth.”

“Well that’s..that’s because...um…”

“Shut it, you’re coming with me,” he says after letting Jon stammer for a moment and grabbing him by the upper arm to drag him to the warehouse. Jon just goes with the man. He feels like he did when Julia grabbed him. This time there isn’t anyone to even scream for help to and the only person who knows where he is is probably Elias and he’d almost prefer there be no rescue at all over needing Elias to come to save him. Michael might figure it out somehow but Jon hadn’t seen him since he got back from America.

He gets bound, gagged, and is manhandled through the Dark warehouse. At least he’s allowed to keep his bag with its tape recorder. He can’t see more than a foot in front of himself and has to rely on his captor to not run into things. Eventually, his captor puts him in a chair, holds him to it, and turns on a dim light. He blinks back the bright spots and finds himself face to face with Maxwell Rayner.

“Good evening, Archivist,” he says pleasantly. “You’ll forgive my gagging you but I’d rather not be forced to spill my secrets to your master.”

Jon grunts in frustration.

“My followers want me to kill you, you know. Elias is an old friend and I’d rather keep to his good side so I’ll keep you alive.”

Jon grunts in sarcastic gratitude.

“Although I am going to keep you here. It’s nothing personal but I can’t have him interfering with the transfer of my consciousness. Why don’t you show The Archivist where he’ll be staying with my new body?”

Jon is then dragged down a pitch black hallway and thrown into another room.

“Wh-who’s there?” Calls the voice of a _child_ and Jon’s stomach drops. Rayner was going to...what? Posses this child? Rip his whole life from him? He tries to talk past the gag but it all comes out as muffled grunts. Jon hears the child shuffle away from him and remain silent. Jon could try to shuffle closer to where the child is but that would only serve to terrify them more. Instead, he tries to get out of the rope tying his hands and only serves to chafe his wrists.

It’s in the silence that Jon notices it. He doesn’t feel watched. A few months ago he would have been relived but now he just feels more alone and helpless. He had to rescue this child. No matter what happened to him he had to rescue them. Carefully, he backs up against the wall and follows it along the perimeter of the room. The child shuffles away from him as he moves closer and he tries to make reassuring sounds but that seems to only upset them more. The room itself doesn’t have any windows or furniture (at least none along the walls) and Jon briefly wonders where he and this child are expected to use the restroom.

The answer is when someone comes in and takes him or the child into a bathroom on the other side of the warehouse. It barely has room for a toilet and a sink but at least it’s lit. Jon is pretty sure the child isn’t bound which he’s grateful for because then no one has to help the child take off their pants to use the toilet. The child still won’t talk to him, although sometimes he hears them sobbing in the corner away from him.

Meals are much the same way as the bathroom. He’s taken to a room with a single light bulb and a tray of food. Someone removes his bonds and leaves him alone with...something. Jon can’t see or hear it but he can _feel_ the presence of something evil lurking in the Dark. Challenging him to _ask_ so it can rip out his throat. He doesn’t know how long he’s left alone for but he’s certain the time varies. Sometimes he’ll finish his meal and wait for what feels like hours before someone comes and gets him, but others he barely takes a bite before he’s hauled out of the room hungry.

Once, just once, in a fit of uncharacteristic bravery, Jon tries to knock a captor over to give the child an opening. He’s rewarded with _something_ dragging him back into the darkest corners of the room with claws that sink into his ankles enough to give him a limp and some new scars. After that, they keep him in a separate room with a creeping shadow.

He can feel himself getting weaker and weaker. At first, he thinks he’s being poisoned or that his ankle injuries are infected but he slowly becomes aware of an incessant need to _ask_ whoever comes to take him to the toilet or the food room for a statement.

Jon doesn’t know how long he’s trapped but at the point when he feels the need for a statement so strongly he can think of nothing else and his body trembles with the need for it he is led in a dimly lit corridor. He sees the child and learns that he appears to be a boy around eleven or twelve. He takes the opportunity to “faint” on one of the captors in a final, futile attempt to free the child. He’s taken to another dim room where Rayner is waiting. Jon and the boy are strapped into chairs. Jon’s chair feels metal and he’s bound in rope. The boy’s chair looks very old and has some sort of black mold covering most of it; and he’s only held down by a single wire.

Jon can’t actually see what happens next. The room is Darkened and Rayner is saying some words under his breath that Jon can’t quite make out. The boy is crying again and there’s an oozing coming from where Rayner was and headed towards the child. Jon tries to hop into the way but only succeeds in scooting his chair a millimeter before someone stops him. He doesn’t want to hear what happens next but he wants to hear what happens next. The boy is yelling, begging for help, and Jon is helpless to do anything but listen as Rayner takes over his body.

The boy’s body is freed from its chair and he steps over to Jon.

“Since you have been so co-operative in my plans I’ll return you to Elias relatively unharmed,” the boy says with Rayner’s cadence. Someone unties Jon from the chair and takes him to the outside of the building where Elias is waiting. He unties Jon and removes the gag from his mouth before ushering him into a car. Then he gives Jon the statement of Barnabus Bennett to read. Some poor man that Jonah Magnus left to the Lonely just to see what happened. Apparently callously watching others suffer was a requirement to become the Head of the Magnus Institute.

“You know, Jon,” Elias says once Jon has made his own statement. “I had intended to inform the police about Rayner’s kidnapping.”

Jon doesn’t say anything.

“I couldn’t once you got captured. I didn’t want to risk you getting caught in the crossfire.”

“If “The Archivist” is so important to you, **why did you kill Gertrude?** ”

Elias shivers with pleasure.

“That’s… That’s quite nice, actually. Tingly… but sort of freeing,” he chuckles. “You know, even Gertrude never properly tried to compel me. I always wondered what it would feel like.”

“Just **tell me.** ”

“I will but of my own free will, you understand. I’m not being _compelled_ to tell you this.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know, but I do. Anyway, I killed Gertrude because she intended to set the Archives ablaze. Is that sufficient?”

“Would you honestly tell me more if it wasn’t?”

“It would really depend on the question.”

“What was the name of the boy Rayner killed?”

“I’m not sure killed is the appropriate word. That body’s original owner was named Callum Brodie. I believe you read his father, Philp Brown’s statement. Such a shame. I can’t imagine what his mother is going through now.”

They lapse into silence for the rest of the drive. When they get to the Institute Jon feels better. He can feel the Eye’s gaze back on him and the familiarity of it is almost comforting. Now that’s a horrific thought.

He turns on all the lights in the bathroom and showers the week of grime off of himself. While he does he mourns Callum Brodie. If only Jon could have done something. If he’d known more he could have helped or avoided capture. Instead, he was the one who may have prevented Callum’s rescue.


	12. The Archivist Draws Closer to the Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon does more investigation into the Unknowing, visits Tim and Sasha, and convinces Martin to burn Gerry's page over tea.

After his second kidnapping, Jon is almost grateful to only have other people’s nightmares. Almost. He can still feel their terror and hatred. The nurse from the night he saw Grifter’s Bone was particularly damning. She stands and ignores the zombie chewing at her in favor of glaring Jon down and he can’t look away. Still, it’s better than reliving the Dark or Callum Brodie’s demise.

He keeps all of the lights on in the Archive now. Even if large portions of it have gone untouched by anyone but Michael in a century and even it hasn’t been in the Archive in some time. If Elias has a problem with the increased lighting costs he doesn’t complain but Jon worries that the brighter lights make him easier to watch. Still, better to be watched than to wonder at what hides in the dark.

Jon goes to the storage locker Gerry told him about. It turns out that the key he found last year was for it and after explaining to the security guard that he had been tasked with cleaning out the storage unit of his late grandmother. He’s left alone with the unit and is immediately grateful when he finds several pounds of plastic explosives, a letter to Gertrude from Adelard Dekker, and an ancient gorilla skin. Apparently, Gertrude was planning on following the Slaughter’s lead and stopping the Unknowing by just blowing it up. As for the gorilla skin, he opts to destroy it before it can be used in the Unknowing.

He weighs his options and decides he’d be easier pickings for any Stranger to catch him if he takes a taxi so he risks getting caught with plastic explosives on the tube to take everything back to the Institute. It goes smoothly. Everyone is too preoccupied with their own journey to pay Jon any mind, unwieldy bag or not, and he makes it back to the Institute unmolested. He _knows_ the skin could be replaced but he still takes it out to the courtyard to burn it, anyway. He can’t imagine the gardener will appreciate a scorch mark in the middle of their hard work but they’d probably appreciate being totally unmade less. He tries to throw Gerry’s page into the fire but his grip on it is iron-clad. He just can’t bring himself to let it go no matter how hard he tries to think of Gerry or humanity or what he said about anchors his mind keeps screaming at him about the potentially lost knowledge.

He goes to the graveyard with more flowers, Gerry’s page, and a lighter.

He can almost hear Sasha say _Now that looks like trouble._ Except he can’t quite remember her voice.

“ _I’m_ the one who’s in trouble,” Jon replies as if she was there. “I’m trying to help someone but _can’t._ The thing that stood and watched while you and Tim were eaten is stopping me.”

Jon sits by Sasha’s grave and tries to focus on her and Tim. All the human parts of him that loves them. Tears well up in his eyes at their loss but he still can’t bring himself to bring the lighter close enough to free Gerry.

He tries again at Tim’s grave but he still can’t do it.

“I don’t know what to do,” he says to the grave. “I-I know how to stop the Unknowing. I can get back at them for Danny on your behalf. I just need someone who can...I don’t know, remind me I’m still human I suppose.”

Tim’s grave doesn’t have any advice.

“Maybe I could get someone else to free him?” Jon offers. “Except I don’t _have_ anyone else. Elias wouldn’t do it and I haven’t seen Michael or Jurgen in at least a month. There’s Martin, I suppose. He’s been the kindest to me in all this and he’s a spider.”

The graveyard remains silent.

He decides to himself that Martin would be the best option and he has been given an excuse to go to Martin’s house already. Martin had told Jon to bring him a box or two of Lady Grey tea for the advice he had given him. He buys four boxes and brings Gerry’s page.

“You know,” Martin says as he leads Jon into his kitchen after binding questions from his tongue with webs. “I’m only one person. I’ll need _guests_ to go through all this tea.”

Jon shudders at the way Martin says “guests”. He knows what happens to the guests of spiders all too well and he’s seen what Martin is.

“If you don’t like it I can always get something else,” Jon replies. Mr. Spider had asked the Archivist for tea. Mr. Spider better like it.

“Oh, it’s fine, Jon, but the amount makes me think you might want something from me.”

It’s hard to even _say_ it. So instead he says, “I was...uh… curious about something. About being an avatar.”

“We serve different gods,” Martin reminds him, putting the kettle on. “But color me intrigued.”

“The Eye is… actively stopping me from doing something I want to do.”

“Is this still about those dreams? I told you all you can do is choose not to let the guilt consume you. Hell, learn to enjoy it. They had all already been caught by _something_ already.”

“Believe me, the guilt over a few dreams is the least of my worries,” Jon says trying not to think of the terrified and hateful faces in his nightmares. He can’t imagine _enjoying_ it. “I meant….There’s a Leitner that binds the dead to its pages and I promised the man tied to one of those pages I would free him but…”

“The Eye gets grouchy when it can’t _know_ things and page-man _knows?_ ” Martin guesses.

“Yes, I was hoping you knew a way around it.”

“The Web is....” Martin begins and pauses. “It likes to blend the lines between free choice and manipulation so much it’s hard to tell, actually. I just try not to think about it.”

“He deserves to be at rest, Martin. If I can’t…”

“You gave me two boxes of tea in hopes I would release this man for you?”

“Well, yes, I don’t exactly have anyone else to turn to.”

“No one’s taken you up on that archival assistant offer, then?”

“I haven’t seen the Distortion since the last time I saw you,” Jon confesses and Martin snorts in disbelief.

“Yeah, the Spiral wouldn’t be a _great_ choice to work with the Eye.”

“No, it was going beautifully,” Jon deadpans. “Every time I left my office the shelves made even less sense. I really made my life so much easier.”

Jon doesn’t know _how_ he can joke with Martin of all people with all the fear he still feels of him. Maybe it’s just been so long since he’s been able to joke with anyone. Martin doesn’t get the joke, anyway.

“You Eye people are certainly strange,” Martin replies. At this point, the kettle whines and Martin makes two cups of Lady Grey. Jon realizes it would perhaps be unwise to accept food from an avatar of the Web but to deny it would be rude. Besides, he had bought the tea it can’t have been poison. He even indulges himself in a bit of extra sugar in his tea since he’s not sure he can make a worse impression on Martin by having a sweet tooth.

“The matter of burning the page is still in the air,” Jon says carefully.

“Is that what happened to your hand?” Martin asks gesturing to Jon’s scarred palm.

“Oh no, it was was, um, Jude Perry. She gives quite a handshake,” Jon laughs nervously. Martin’s expression darkens.

“Lightless flame, huh?” Martin asks. “So you still have a death wish?”

“It’s not...I mean,” Jon stammers into his tea. “I had this last time I was here. I _have_ to know things. So I can stop the Unknowing or understand the path I’m on or help people.”

“Even if it’s dangerous?”

“I chose this path, didn’t I?” Jon asks, looking back up at Martin.

“I suppose you did,” Martin replies with an amused look on his face. “Although, if you want to know more about being an avatar you can always contact me.”

“Oh, I, erm, I don’t have your number,” Jon says.

“I suppose I’ll have to give it to you before you leave, then,” Martin offers. Jon _knows_ he’s being wound into Martin’s web but it can’t be worse than Elias’. “Now, about your friend’s page.”

“I want to watch you burn it,” Jon says firmly as he hands Martin the page. At least he tries to hand it over, but maybe because his body knows why he’s handing it off his hands won’t let go.

“Jon, let go,” Martin says tugging at it.

“I-I can’t.”

“ **Let go.** ”

Jon feels the threads tugging his fingers away. There are more of them than the ones keeping him from asking questions and even with him actively giving in to these threads it takes nearly a minute for Martin to get it out of his hands. Once Martin has it he sets it alight and drops it into the empty metal sink to contain the fire. Jon lets out a pained noise and nearly topples over at the sharp agony that spikes behind his eyes. Martin puts a hand on his shoulder and Jon flinches back. Martin pulls his hand away at that.

“You all right?” Martin asks cautiously.

“Yes, I’m just...it’s been a while since anyone has touched me without ill will. I didn’t expect it.”

“I meant the page burning thing,” Martin clarifies.

“Oh, yes the Eye didn’t appreciate it but I do. Thank you, Martin.”


	13. The Archivist Takes Some Statements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets five statement givers and a spider, and learns about some of Michael's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs:  
> Spiders  
> Stalking (sort of)  
> Implied Kidnapping  
> Implied Mortal Peril (that isn't resolved at the end of the chapter)

After the incident with the nurse, Jon had somehow managed to avoid taking any new live statements. Which is more than acceptable to him. At least it would be if his cravings for statements could actually be _sated_ by recording the written ones. Still, it’s better than putting people into his nightmare museum.

He isn’t shocked, though, when his dry spell ends with four live statements in two weeks.

The first one is a woman claiming her old flat was haunted. It tastes more like the Desolation than the End and the image of the burning woman makes him think of Agnes Montegue. He’ll make a few inquiries into her old flat to see if there’s anything he can actually do to prevent anything similar from happening to anyone else but it seems the statement giver is safe. The statement giver was also under the impression that she would be paid for her statement. Jon assures her this isn’t normally the case but he writes her a check using the Institute’s expense account, anyway. It’s always a pleasure to spend Elias’ money.

The man who comes in the same week gives Jon an obviously fake name. Apparently, he and his friend had trespassed into an abandoned tube station and his friend had been caught by the Dark. He goes on about how he believes there’s a secret government holding facility where they’re holding his friend. Jon shudders at the reminder of his own kidnapping by the Dark although he doubts the statement giver’s friend is so lucky. He briefly considers using some of the plastic explosives to sink the tube station but nixes it pretty quickly since he has no clue how much he’ll need for the Unknowing. He sends the man on his way and dreads his nightmare in particular.

The following week a man comes in that makes Jon grateful he can just _ask_ things. Even then the man spends a full minute talking about his dog. A dog, who as far as Jon could tell, had tried to warn the man _away_ from the Spiral maze. Maybe he should be getting the dog’s statement, instead. The man apparently just spent six hours confused in the maze until he remembered he might be late for dinner. Clearly, Gerry had been wrong. All Jon needed to anchor himself to humanity was a really good roast.

The final statement of the week is from a man with spiders in his flat. As far as Jon knew that meant a total of three people had been plagued by spider roommates. Unless he was watching her nightmares from beyond the grave, Jennifer Walker had managed to escape her webby fate. So, he recommends the man move out of his flat and prays that will be enough; although he knows the Web better than that. Before he leaves the man points to a spider on Jon’s wall and laments that they are already following him. Instinctively, he goes to crush it before thinking better of it. He texts Martin a picture of it instead.

**Martin:** Awwww, look at the cutie!

**Jon:** I genuinely don’t know if you’re being facetious right now.

**Jon:** I just want to know if you’re responsible for this little spy.

**Martin:** Only one of us is tied to the god of being nosy and it isn’t me

**Jon:** That doesn’t answer the question

**Martin:** There was a question?

**Jon:** Is the spider yours?

**Martin:** Technically she’s yours. I asked her to watch you

**Jon:** So she’s here to tell you when I’m being...

**Jon:** How did you put it?

**Jon:** Curious enough for all nine lives?

**Martin:** Yes

**Jon:** At least I have someone looking out for me.

Jon wonders if he comes across as slightly bitter in his text. It’s not as if Martin said he would _do_ anything to help but Jon liked to think that their friendship meant as much to Martin as it did to him. It was nice having a friend again. Nicer still that said friend could protect himself from things like Jane Prentiss and Jon doesn’t spend every waking moment worried about Martin’s safety. That’s not to say he doesn’t check on Martin in his own way and apparently the checking was mutual. That had to mean something.

Over the past few weeks, he’s actually been getting out of the Institute to do things other than research. He would almost feel like a person again if it weren’t for the nagging in the back of his mind when someone walked past himself and Martin reeking of _statement._ Martin would probably let him ask, too. Sometimes he was curious about what happened to a person and it was getting harder every day to split his idle curiosity from the Eye’s craving.

Occasionally Martin would use his own avatar powers when they went out. Jon knows he shouldn’t be happy about it but all Martin usually did was move them to the front of the waiting list at a restaurant or make belligerent bar partons go home. Maybe serving a Dread Power wasn’t all bad all the time. He got ready access to information if he _asked_ and Martin could tug people away if they got to be a problem. With Martin, it was easier to accept becoming an avatar.

Other than the rare interaction with Elias, Martin had been the only avatar he had interacted with in some time. Which was slightly worrying when it came to Michael. Not only because him not being in the Archives meant he was out attacking people but because he still hadn’t gotten Michael’s statement. Mostly because he wasn’t sure Michael actually _was_ an avatar until he heard him on one of Gertrude’s tapes. Of course he was a former assistant, Gertrude probably lost Michael the same way Jon had lost Tim and Sasha, and that’s why he kept showing up whenever he mourned them and had discouraged Jon from taking on new assistants.

Jon wanted to _ask_ now to see if his theory was right. Unfortunately, he had no real idea as to how to get in contact with Michael. Martin wouldn’t know and Elias wouldn’t tell him. Leitner would likely be of little help as well if Jon could even get a hold of him.

It’s while he’s talking to Rosie about Gertrude’s assistants the following week that the woman walks in. She’s older, around 75, and Jon can practically taste the statement on her.

“Could either of you young people tell me where I can go to make a statement?” She asks.

“You want to speak with our Head Archivist, Jon Sims,” Rosie says gesturing at him.

“Yes, I can take your statement in my office if you don’t mind,” Jon says. He felt for the poor old woman but if listened to her statement he would be stronger when the time came to stop the Unknowing. Maybe he could even keep her from a terrible fate.

“Thank you, Jon,” she says cheerily. “I hope I didn’t interrupt you chatting up that young lady.”

“Oh, uh.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I was only joking.”

“Quite right, Mrs…?”

“Smith, Brenda Smith.”

“Good to meet you Mrs. Smith. Although I’m sure you’d prefer different circumstances.”

“I very much would. You see, my husband has gone missing and-”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Smith but if you wouldn’t mind making your statement until after I’ve see up my recorder?”

“Oh of course.”

Jon has her fill out her contact details as a formality before setting up his tape recorder.

“Statement of Brenda Smith, regarding her missing husband. Statement taken direct from subject 2nd April 2017. Statement begins:”

“I suppose I should let you know that I already contacted the police about this. Just so you know I’m not some senile old woman who forgot her husband died years ago or something. My Howard has been missing for just over a week now and it’s all because of our awful neighbor.

It started almost six months ago. The man who used to live in the house across the street from ours had recently moved out without a word to either of us. That wasn’t a complete surprise since we had never been particularly close to Marcus Wilson. I had been friendly with his wife but we hadn’t spoken since the funeral. Perhaps that’s why he moved away, too many memories of her.

Anyway, the young man who moved in across the street was strange. Howie and I came over and introduced ourselves and I could just feel something wasn’t quite right about him. He tried to invite us in for a cuppa but I swiftly made up some excuse or another to avoid it.

Howie had learned over the years to trust my intuition and he followed my lead. I thought that would be the end of it but we both felt this… _pull_ to the house.

Our new neighbor seemed to keep all manner of guests at all hours of the day and night. We began coming up with wild conspiracies as to why and they ranged from drug cartell to aliens to just some sort of free-lancer with odd clients. As you can imagine retirement was extremely boring for us, but I digress. Eventually the curiosity got the better of us and we excepted the standing invitation for a cuppa to get a better look at the inside of the house.

We looked around the place and he led us to the kitchen. We had each agreed to use the loo as an excuse to snoop a bit. I went first and all I saw was a few more cobwebs than I would have expected for someone with so many regular guests. There was a spider on the wall at the end of the hall but I steered clear of it. I figured since it wasn’t my house the spider wasn’t my problem.

Then Howie went. He went into the basement. I should never have asked him to look in the basement. When he came back he looked like he’d seen a ghost and he said as quickly as possible that we had to leave. Our gracious host _insisted_ that we stay and finish our tea and we...couldn’t leave. I swear it felt like my legs had been webbed to the chair.

We sat there and drank while he talked idly about what he want to do with the basement. Each time he said the word ‘basement’ he looked at Howie and I could feel him flinch beside me. Eventually he did let us go and when I asked Howie what he saw in the basement he said, “the inevitable.” I had never seen my husband so afraid.

After that he became obsessed with the house. He invested in some binoculars to watch the faces of each person going inside and once...once he had me look. I saw some poor woman get grabbed by long spidery legs through one of the upstairs windows. He told me it was inevitable.

I told him we should call the police but he just shugged. Over the months of watching our neighbor he became more and more resigned. As if the spider monster our neighbor kept was inevitable for him. Then one morning Howie was just...gone. He left a note, which I gave to the police, that just said he’d gone to meet the inevitable.”

“Would you mind stating the name of this neighbor for the record?” Jon asks, even though he _knows_ the answer.

“Martin Blackwood.”

“And you said you took this matter to the police?”

“Yes, a Detective Tonner helped me there.”


	14. The Archivist Finds a Wolf with the Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon makes terrible moral choices, meets Daisy, and feeds the Eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Murder  
> Spiders  
> Supernatural Coercion  
> Mention of Suicide  
> Implied Cannibalism

Jon feels sick after Mrs. Smith leaves. Finding out that Martin kills people shouldn’t come as a shock. Not when he’s faced with his spidery eyes every time he sleeps and certainly not when every other avatar Jon can name was some form of a killer. Martin never pretended to be something he wasn’t, either. No wool had been pulled from Jon’s eyes because there was never any wool there. Martin never pretended to be anything other than what he was.

Martin was also his friend. His only friend in the entire world. It was probably fine. This Detective Tonner would probably go to Martin’s house and ask about the old man. Martin would lie and that would be that. Tonner would probably leave with the impression that Martin was the most harmless man in the world and no further inquiries would be made.

He can’t focus for the rest of the day. His mind keeps coming back to Martin and Detective Tonner. Wouldn’t it be better to _help_ the police deal with Martin? Save a few people from the Web? No, Martin was right. Even if Martin or Jon or any other avatar didn’t come after someone that was no guarantee they wouldn’t stumble into a Dread Power on their own.

Jon tries to keep calm. Martin could handle himself. Even if he couldn’t what’s one less monster in the world? Yes, he was Jon’s friend but he also _ate_ people. He should just let it play out.

What if Tonner is a hunter like Trevor? If he could shrug off the suggestion of a Web avatar with help from the Hunt, why wouldn’t she? Martin was a pretty big guy, he could probably handle himself in a fight. That’s assuming it even got to that. Martin could tell he was the Archivist maybe he would be wise enough to not use anything but his charm on the detective and she wouldn’t do any follow-up. Also unlikely but if he could get her to leave Martin would be able to protect himself.

Maybe he should be helping the police. He knew what Martin did and even if his victims would have been caught by the Web, anyway, Jon could at least prevent them from being caught by Martin.

Jon spends the better part of the night going back and forth with himself with worry over Martin and if he should help him or Tonner.

He decides to look into Detective Tonner. As a matter of professional curiosity. He doesn’t find out much other than her first name is Alice. It’s while he’s looking for her on social media that the Eye gives him some proper information about her: she has almost no oversight on provably supernatural cases and she has a spot in the forest where she kills monsters and deals with their corpses. The Eye even tells him where it is. It shifts the hypothetical of the death of yet another friend into enough of a certainty that Jon’s blood runs cold. He doesn’t even think. He can’t lose anyone else. Maybe he can get there before them or at least before she...No, he would get there first and save Martin. He had to. Even if Martin was a monster.

By the grace of whatever gods or monsters that bend the universe Jon gets there first. He _knows_ none of the bodies in the ground are Martin so he just sits quietly in a bush waiting for them.

“I said, stay the fuck out of my head,” a voice presumably belonging to Tonner growls from the other side of the clearing. Martin is thrown forward into the clearing. He looks the way he does in Jon’s nightmares. Eight black eyes, two of which appear to be swollen shut, four spidery limbs to supplement his human ones, all of which seem to be broken, and Jon assumes he would see Martin’s black canines if it weren’t for the gag. Totally a monster and yet as soon as Jon saw him all he could think of were his other friends he had watched die. When Tonner followed Martin into the clearing brandishing a gun and commanding him to pick up a shovel Jon throws whatever self-preservation he has to the wind and steps into the clearing.

“What?” She asks when she sees Jon. “Did you bring this poor sod here to save you? You think he can do anything?”

She grabs Martin by the hair as she asks him and makes him face Jon. Jon realizes he’s accustomed to a monstrous Martin when his only thought is of the powerlessness in Martin’s eyes.

“ **Tell me what happened,** ” Jon commands. He can feel the statements buzzing off of her and _asking_ is the only thing he can think to do in the moment.

“Another freak, huh? Here to protect your freaky friend?” She taunts, pointing the gun at him.

“I said, **tell me what happened, Detective Tonner,** ” Jon commands again. This time Tonner shakes her head for a moment before speaking again.

“It’s started almost a year ago when a missing persons case reached a dead end with Blackwood. Apparently, friends of the victim were certain that Blackwood was the last person to see them alive but when one of my colleagues went to do an interview they ended up spending an entire day chatting with him about poetry. The officer was so convinced he used some kind of mind control that they had me look into it.

No way this officer was lying about the mind control. No one wants to get sectioned. Especially not to avoid a formal reprimand for screwing around on the clock.

By the following day, Blackwood had apparently left his flat. Nothing left but a few cobwebs and when we talked to the landlord this Blackwood didn’t even exist. According to him, there had been a man staying in the flat rent-free but he couldn’t remember why he let him. In fact, he was pretty sure the free tenant was responsible for all the spiders in the basement. We went into the basement to check things out and all we found was a couple of human teeth.

The precinct, the sectioned parts at least, had learned over the years to be careful with freaks who could mess with your head. We knew it would best to get the drop on them. But… with no forwarding address, we got stuck sniffing out whatever leads we could. All we could turn up about family was a mum he’d probably killed and none of his former neighbors knew anything. Since we hit a dead end, we just got told to drop it, but once I catch wind of a freak walking the streets, I keep an ear out.

It took over six months to get anything about Blackwood. Occasionally, someone would claim they had been mind-controlled into committing a crime but that’s the usual fair for low-lives trying to escape responsibility. Unless they gave specifics, their case wasn’t sectioned. I don’t know if he just found victims that would be less likely to be missed or if they don’t usually go missing but I couldn’t catch a whiff of anything that sounded out of the ordinary. Even the usual less-than-legal sources could get anything on him. I figured maybe we spooked him. He met one cop and skipped town like a coward.

Until just yesterday this sweet old lady comes in about her missing husband. Missing persons sent her over to me as soon as she mentioned “Martin Blackwood.” Like I said, no one wants to get sectioned so they try to keep the sectioned stuff with sectioned officers.

This sweet old lady gave me this freak’s address all I had to do was wait until he fell asleep and I’d have him. I snuck into his basement around 10 pm when all the lights were out in his house. I found what was left of the old man encased in webbing. At least the old lady wouldn’t have to wonder where her husband had gone but I doubt she’d be getting this version of the story anyway.

I didn’t see Blackwood in the basement so I went up to the ground floor it was while I was in his kitchen that I heard him come down the stairs all groggy and looking like a _person_. The layout of the house let me get a bit of a drop on him but we still fought.

He kept trying to _make_ me stop. It was like he was putting thoughts in my head that weren’t mine. He kept trying to command or pull me off him with puppet strings but he couldn’t stop me from knocking him out with the butt of my gun. I broke each one of his spidery legs when I threw him in the car and gagged him. Then I took him out here to make him dig his grave before I kill him.”

When the statement stops Jon sees what looks like thousands of spiders swarming the detective and binding her up in webs while she thrashes and curses. Unfortunately for her, most of the web had been spun while she gave her statement. He looks around for Martin who looks human again although one of his normal brown eyes was pretty swollen and a mass of spiders surrounds his mouth.

Jon tentatively stepped over to Martin but trying to keep his distance from the two great masses of spiders in the clearing.

“Martin, are you...are you alright?” He asks carefully. He mostly expects a nod but Martin speaks from behind the spiders.

“I will be when we’re done with the big bad wolf,” Martin replies coldly. _We_ because this was Jon’s problem now, too. He could have just done nothing and yes he would be alone but there would be one less monster. Although all the bones under his feet and the growling coming from the bundle of web made him think that whatever he did would result in the death of a monster. Maybe Jon had earned the right to be selfish with which monsters he suffered to live.

“What should we…” Jon begins. “If you just kill her now there will be more people looking for you.”

“What should we do, then? She’s not exactly co-operative.”

_We_ again. This was _their_ problem now. Jon would have to work _with_ Martin on this. He’s just as responsible for what happens to Tonner as Martin is.

“What if I...I don’t know, wore away at her mental fortitude? Take enough statements that you could just tell her to go wipe your record or whatever.”

“So you don’t think we should kill her?”

“Martin I….Is there even a choice at this point?”

“You always have a choice, Jon.”

“I think I _had_ a choice,” Jon replies. “I took too long to make it and now...now we’re here and I don’t see any options other than… I’m sorry.”

“Alright,” Martin sighs. “Feed your god then I’ll feed mine.”

Jon winces at the phrasing and walks back over to where Detective Tonner is trying to struggle out of several layers of web and spiders. He bumps something plastic in the dark and looks down to see the familiar shape of a tape recorder, already recording.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says to Detective Tonner’s cold stare.

“No you’re not,” she spits. Jon takes a deep breath.

“Statements of Alice Tonner regarding her work under section 31. Statement recorded 3rd April, 2017. Statements begin:”

It happens much like it did with Leitner. Jon keeps _asking_ and _asking_ while Tonner has no choice but to answer. Except this time Jon is aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware when she tries to resist his compulsion. The three of them stand there past dawn as she recounts a majority of her police career to the recorder and Jon can feel the Hunt running throughout. Once she’s finished Jon feels energized, the opposite of how he felt after Leitner. She looks a lot less afraid of him than Leitner did.

He turns to let Martin have at her. He wants to look away and leave. To not have to see what Martin decided to do but he can’t look away.

“ **You can either can either get rid of all the police’s information on me and kill yourself or you can kill your partner and quit the force** ,” Martin says in an echoing voice.

“I’ll find a way to get you freaks,” Tonner swears but her feet carry her shuffling through the forest. The forest is quiet for several moments before Martin speaks again.

“Why did you come here?”

“I...Well I,” Jon stammers. “I was afraid to have another friend die. I-I... the old lady with the dead husband came to me after she reported him missing. She told me about her police report but I didn’t warn you. I can’t stand by while the only friend I have left is taken from me.”

Martin’s face goes from surprised to confused to angry to sad while Jon tries to explain himself.

“Do you want me to get you a ride home?” Martin asks, finally just looking tired.

“I was thinking….you should stay at my flat for a bit. Until this blows over. I pretty much live at the Institute but my lease isn’t up for another year so you would have the place to yourself.”


	15. The Archivist and the Spider Discuss Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon comforts Martin, is annoyed with Elias, and has some more nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Implied Emotional Manipulation

Jon ends up actually paying for the ride back to his flat because Martin appears to be too out of it to try and convince him that mind-controlling a passing car is a better idea. They sit in the car in silence for most of the way which does terrible things for Jon’s mind. He tries and fails to rationalize himself beyond just wanting to protect his friend. Eventually, he chooses to focus on Martin in the moment so he reaches out and touches Martin’s knee to get his attention. Martin jumps.

“Sorry,” Jon says pulling his hand back quickly. “I just wanted to see if you were ok.”

“It’s ok,” Martin replies taking Jon’s hand and resting it back on his knee. “You aren’t the only one not used to people touching you. I’m still trying to understand why you came.”

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Clearly not.”

“I care about you, Martin,” Jon sighs. “Every person I set out to help just suffers more and I have so little effect on things. I suppose that’s what a Watcher does; I watch and record and I do nothing. So just once. Just this goddamn once I’d like to have at least helped _you._ Even if it was horribly selfish.”

“Oh,” Martin says softly. He sniffles a few times and his body shakes with the quiet sob of someone used to hiding their tears.

“I-I’m sorry I... Do you need me to...can I put my hand on your shoulder? To comfort you?”

Martin doesn’t answer. Instead, he just takes the hand Jon still has resting on his knee and moves it to his shoulder. Jon rubs Martin’s arm awkwardly while he shakes until they reach Jon’s flat.

Jon carefully puts his arm around Martin while they take the lift up in silence broken only by Martin’s quiet sobs. Jon leads Martin inside and gently hugs him.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says again. “I’m not very good with emotions.”

“I can’t remember the last time I felt that out of control,” Martin whispers, tightening the hug. “Th-thank you, I don’t think there ever been another person who...I should go to bed.”

“I can lead you there if you let go.”

“Right, sorry,” Martin says, quickly pulling his arms back. He looks exhausted. His eye is no longer bruised but his whole face is red and puffy from crying. Beyond that, he has dark circles under both of his eyes. Jon takes him to his bedroom and sheepishly apologizes for the layer of dust on everything. Martin barely pays him any mind as he collapses into Jon’s bed.

“I’m...going to head back to the Institute,” Jon says although he isn’t sure Martin is awake enough to hear him.

“Come home tonight,” Martin replies and Jon can feel the weak tugging of a web.

“I will. Sleep well, Martin.”

The buzzing energy from Detective Tonner’s statements keep Jon going until late afternoon. He chooses to ignore the statements Elias left on his desk to look more actively into statements revolving around other rituals. He avoids anything about the Watcher’s Crown since Elias would grow suspicious. Preventing Elias from attempting a ritual would also prove to be a problem in that the Eye itself would want that ritual to succeed but maybe Martin could help in that regard.

He takes a brief break when Martin texts him.

**Martin:** Why is the only eatable thing in your flat canned peaches?

**Jon:** I did tell you I basically lived in the Archives.

**Jon:** I can pick up a few things on my way home. I don’t think it would be wise to go back to your house for a while but I can buy you some clothes.

**Martin:** I appreciate it but I can get clothes my own way

**Jon:** I’ll just get take out on my way home, then.

**Jon:** Please don’t eat my neighbors.

**Martin:** I’ll try to contain myself ;)

Elias comes into the Archives at the exact time Jon finishes reading the second statement Elias gives him. The first had been about a Flesh gym and the second was about a loan shark aligned with the Buried. Jon gets the feeling Elias intends for him to visit these places looking for new avatar assistants. Although Jon very much doubts Jared Hopworth would be interested in working for an academic institution. At the very least he could try to get help blowing up the Unknowing.

“Knock, knock,” he calls as he opens Jon’s office door without actually knocking.

“What do you need, Elias?”

“I just wanted to make sure you got those statements. I know you don’t particularly want any more assistants but I still feel you should have some more help. At least more help than a spider at any rate.”

“I’m not sure my relationship with Martin is really any of your business.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that you’re so close with someone who serves manipulation incarnate? You _hate_ spiders and yet you’ve let one into your home. That doesn’t strike you as odd?”

“Yes, but...but I’m sure whatever Martin wants from me can’t be worse than what you let happen to me nearly every day.”

“You went looking for avatars on your own. Even that business with the Dark was because you decided to run off.”

“I wouldn’t need to run off to every avatar and their evil pig for information if you just told me things!”

“I told you, I can’t spoon feed you things. Sometimes the quest for knowledge is dangerous but that’s just the nature of the world. Now, I suggest you look into making better friends to help you stop the Unknowing.”

“Very well, I’ll go ask the man who charges 40% interest on loans if he wants to bury the circus for me. Is that all?”

“For now, yes.”

As much as Jon hates to admit it, Elias was right. Martin was essentially Mr. Spider but instead of being terrified Jon wanted to spend more time with him. He was still afraid but it had become the mundane sort of fear that had hovered over him since his promotion. This wasn’t the first time Jon had thought about it but if Martin was trying to supernaturally manipulate him surely he would hold back on repeatedly reminding Jon of his monstrous nature. Unless that made Jon’s fear more enjoyable? Except Jon wasn’t afraid of Martin manipulating him. At least he wasn’t as afraid as he was Martin wanted to kill him, but that was seeming less and less the case by the day. Still, that Elias mentioned it could be the closest he would get to a warning so he decides to ask Martin when he gets home.

“Martin,” Jon says as they enjoy the pizza he picked up on the way home from work. “I...why are we friends?”

Jon doesn’t _ask._ He’s gotten better at keeping it under control even if this is something he _has_ to know.

“I dunno,” Martin replies. “I like spending time with you. I think you’re interesting and clever. You… This is something you should _ask;_ I can taste your fear.”

“Very well,” Jon says and takes a deep breath. “ **Why are we friends?** ”

“I don’t think I would have told you unless you made me but...When we met I almost killed you. You had pulled me open and stared down at the most fragile part of me and I hated it, but you cried. Other people saw my pitiful childhood happening and chose to ignore it, but you heard about it after the fact and you _cried_ and apologized. You were terrified of me and you were still sad for me. When the dreams came and I saw you, all eyes, standing between me and my mother or the terrible web I thought you were taunting me at first and nearly shut you away, but I was curious. You had played so guiltily at the time I wanted to see if you had a long game. Apparently, your long game was to just try and comfort my dream self. I watched you sit next to me and try to hold me for a month before I sent you that message.

It turns out you didn’t even know you were trying to comfort _me._ You thought you we watching me suffer alone and you still tried to protect me from it. It’s tragic that the world demands things like us to be cruel because you are so very good at kindness. You defied your god to free a man from a book for goodness sake! I was starting to _worry_ about you. How other avatars would use your kindness against you. Look at what Jude Perry did! Mike Crew probably roughed you up, too.

I suppose I… you’re the first person….I care about you, too. That’s why I have spiders following you around.”

Jon can tell there’s something Martin is holding back but it’s difficult to focus. He can feel tears welling up in his eyes.

“Thank you, Martin,” Jon says. “Elias said something about you today and… you know how I get.”

“Curious? Paranoid? That’s the Eye for you.”

“Good lord, that’s an understatement,” Jon laughs.

Nighttime rolls around and after a shower and spending far too long watching _Planet Earth_ on a Netflix account Martin actually pays for Jon is nearly webbed into a good night’s sleep in his own bed by Martin. Jon would have been happy on the sofa but Martin insisted. It was almost out of character. Martin had always seemed a bit selfish to Jon but now he was giving up the nice soft bed to him.

Soft bed or not Jon still has nightmares. Mrs. Smith’s is achingly familiar as he watches her as she watches her husband knock on Martin’s door and be pulled in by long spidery legs. He jolts awake before he gets to Daisy’s nightmares and staggers into the bathroom to splash water on his face. He had had this exact nightmare long before he started working for the Institute. Mr. Spider had haunted his entire childhood and there he was, sleeping on Jon’s sofa. To make things more surreal is that the one person Jon could even imagine turning to for comfort from is the very spider from his nightmare.


	16. The Archivist "Helps" Look for the Missing Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets a visit from Basira, plots to make her life more difficult, and discusses cruelty with Martin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Implied/referenced suicide  
> Cop-typical emotional manipulation

The next few days go relatively smoothly. Jon doesn’t have the detective’s nightmares which bodes well for Martin but not Helen Richardson who despite being eaten by the Distortion some months ago still appears in Jon’s dreams. He and Martin alternate between the bed and sofa although Jon doesn’t actually sleep when he’s on the sofa. He still hates his nightmares. Even if it’s in his nature to feed on their fear he doesn’t have to like it any more than he has to like Brussel sprouts. Just like with Brussel sprouts he can avoid live statements and not suffer terribly.

He comes into work early to continue compiling his research on how Gertrude stopped other rituals in hopes of finding out how to stop the Watcher’s Crown. Unfortunately, he’s interrupted by a policewoman who introduces herself as Basira Hussain. The detective he and Martin had killed’s partner. Apparently, Detective Tonner had gone missing while looking into a case but not before all records of that case had gone missing. Officer Hussain was hoping that the Magnus Institute might have files on the suspect in hopes she could rebuild the case from the ground up.

“I’m sorry Officer Hussain but I’m afraid I can’t give you any files unless you have a warrant,” Jon says curtly. “We have a very strict NDA policy. I’m sure you understand.”

“Look, Mr. Sims, a woman is missing and a killer is on the loose,” Officer Hussain sighs, leaning over Jon’s desk in an attempt to be intimidating. “We both know that I can’t walk up to my bosses ask for a warrant to try and replace our missing files with yours. Especially if I told them about the terrible spider monster that was mind-controlling his neighbors.”

“I could lose my job,” Jon says calmly.

“Alright, fine,” she huffs. “I’ll just leave my information in case you decide to do the right thing.”

“Have a good day, Office Hussain,” Jon calls as she leaves him office. He knows she hesitates in leaving his Archive possibly debating just taking files. Chalk one up to Michael and Gertrude for making such a mess no one can just look at the stacks with an expectation of finding anything they need quickly. No one except Jon that is.

Once she’s gone Jon goes about picking up the three statements that are certainly about Martin as well as a few of the recent Web ones to take out of his Archive just to be on the safe side. He decides to text Martin once they’re securely in his bag.

**Jon:** The partner came in today.

**Jon:** Our friend from the woods is missing but she wants the Institute’s information on you.

**Martin:** What are we going to do about her?

**Jon:** I told her an NDA prevented me from helping unless she has a warrant and I’m bringing your files home.

**Martin:** Will Elias be a problem? He doesn’t exactly like me and the partner would we a good way to get rid of me

**Jon:** She’s not as marked as the other one but he could be a problem. Any suggestions?

**Martin:** We could always “help” her by giving her a few fake statements. Just edit them a bit and mess with whatever real information she could get so she thinks the Institute is useless

**Jon:** I guess we’ll be roommates for a bit longer.

**Jon:** I might even cook for you.

**Martin:** I know a threat when I read one

The discredited section is the newest section of the Archive and therefore the neatest. Jon spends the better part of the afternoon skimming through statements regarding mind control. The majority of statements of that regard seem to be people who were catfished looking for a supernatural explanation where there was none. In fact, a fair few of the “mind-control” statement givers could probably do with a good adblocker or spam filter. Jon decides he can’t just try and convince Officer Hussain that her partner actually went missing looking for an email scammer so he discounts most of them with the exception of a chain mail involving spiders that apparently “forced” a person to give up their credit card information. She was looking for a spider after all. The remaining types of mind control statements involved people claiming their partners were mind-controlled into having affairs that turned out to be totally consensual as far as Tim or Sasha could find out and statements of people claiming that they or a loved one were mind-controlled into committing a crime. Jon picks out a handful of the latter making sure that the statement took place far from anywhere Martin had been recently.

His next step is to re-type the statements and replace relevant names with various spellings of Martin Blackwood. In theory, having Officer Hussain go on a goose chase for “Martyn Blaqwud” and “Marttin Blackwuud” wouldn’t likely deter her but Jon wonders if making someone scamper around trying to solve a mystery feeds the Eye. Elias seems to enjoy it at the very least.

Elias would still be a problem if he decided to intervene. Jon had no way of knowing what Elias knew about the Martin statements and even if Jon took them out of the Archive he couldn’t totally discount Elias telling Basira something. He would have to distract Elias as well as Basira. If he went to the gym or the loan shark while he gave Basira false leads Elias would be more focused on that, surely.

Jon decides to email Officer Hussain from his personal email to make it look like he’s being covert about helping her.

**To:** Basira Hussain

**From:** Jon Sims

**Subject:** Help

Officer Hussain,

I have decided that it would be in the best interest of the public for me to help you, although I’m not sure exactly how helpful I can be. Our filing system, as you no doubt saw, is in a bit of a disarray and I am understaffed at the moment. However, if you give me information on what I might be looking for I will be happy to keep an eye out.

Sincerely,

Jonathan Sims

She replies almost immediately.

**To:** Jon Sims

**From:** Basira Hussain

Sims,

Looking for Martin Blackwood, mind-control, missing person, and spider monster stuff.

Thanks

“You know,” Martin says while leaning over his shoulder. They had gotten more used to being in each other’s space since they started sharing Jon’s tiny flat. It was nice. “You could always have her meet you somewhere secluded and I could just do away with her.”

“We’d have a lot more trouble on our hands if half the police in London suddenly turn up dead or go missing,” Jon replies powering down his laptop. “Besides, there something sort of… _right_ about watching Detective Hussain looking for information that once revealed will destroy her. She still thinks Tonner is alive. I could… I _know_ that she’s afraid to find out what happened.”

“What your saying is this feeds the Eye,” Martin smiles. “Making her run around looking for clues where there are none?”

“Her being afraid of _finding_ the answers she wants feeds the Eye. So will finding them.”

“Enjoying yourself?”

Jon sighs. He shouldn’t be. Leaving someone to torment themselves for the Eye’s amusement was awful. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if he didn’t know what happened to someone he cared about. Although feeding the Eye this way would do the double work of feeding him and keeping Elias from helping Officer Hussain find Martin.

“I don’t know,” Jon replies. “I think part of me is but I...She’s lost someone precious to her and I’m letting her stew in the false hope that that person is still alive. That’s cruel of me, isn’t it?”

“Seeing as I’m the one who told Daisy to either kill herself or Basira I don’t think I’m the one who should decide how cruel _you’re_ being.”

“I suppose not.”.


	17. The Archivist Meets the Boneturner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gives away a rib, gets in trouble for not taking care of himself, talks about ethical fear consumption, and plans for the Unknowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW  
> Boneturning  
> Fainting (passing out one place and ending up somewhere else)

Jon decides to visit the Boneturner’s gym the following day. Briefly he wonders if he should try to dress like a gym patron instead of an Archivist but discounts the idea. Mostly on the basis that he doesn’t intend to stay longer than necessary but he also doesn’t own any workout gear. He had wound up borrowing work out clothes the one and only time he had gone hiking with Sasha and Tim. So his usual professional clothing will have to do.

Due to Ross Davenport’s reluctance to give an address to the gym, Jon has to rely on the Eye to give him an idea of where it is. Apparently feeding it Basira made it favorably disposed enough to him that it not only told him _where_ is was but what Jared did to the previous owner. Jon is curious about Jared in a lot of ways. For one thing, he seemed to have totally stumbled into avatarhood via a Leitner. Mike Crew had made a deliberate choice to look for a Leitner to free him from the lightning monster and was at least slightly aware of the entities but Jared had gone in blindly. The other more pressing thing tugging on the back of his mind was that Jared seemed to be feeding the Flesh almost _ethically_ The people in his gym wanted their bones to be turned as far as Jon could tell.

The front desk is empty and Jon almost calls out before a man who could only be Jared Hopworth steps out of the changing room.

“You lost?” Jared asks.

“No, I...I was looking for you, Mr. Hopworth,” Jon stammers.

“You’re from the Institute, aren’t you?” Jared replies. “You sure don’t look like one of my...clients.”

“Yes, I’m the Archivist. I was hoping to ask you a few questions?”

“What’ll you give me?”

“What?”

“What’ll you give me in exchange for my statement? Jaw bone? Some of your fingers?”

Jon considers for a moment. He could try to force information out of Jared but that would likely get his friends in the changing rooms after him. It would be best to let Jared take something Jon wouldn’t miss. The Flesh would have its meal and so would the Eye.

“Fine,” Jon aquieses. “One of my ribs _after_ the statement.”

“Works for me.”

“Before that, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about,” Jon explains the Unknowing and how he plans to stop it. Jared agrees to see if any of his “friends” would be willing to help and tells Jon to call the gym when the Unknowing is closer.

Jared’s statement is interesting and while tragic it doesn’t affect him the way Martin’s had. Jon knew the type of child Jared was. The kind he’d like to avoid as much as possible, even as an adult. The rib removal is painful and violating in a way that almost reminds him of the feeling of Prentiss’s worms. It leaves him wincing and dizzy; he barely manages to make it to a chair before passing out completely.

He wakes up in his own bed with a radiating tenderness in his side. The Eye doesn’t need to tell him that one of Martin’s little spies probably alerted him when Jon passed out in the lobby of Jared Hopworth’s gym. How Martin got an unconscious man across London without alerting suspicion is another matter.

Jon leaves his bedroom to see Martin making stir-fry in his kitchen. It’s painfully domestic until Martin sees him standing in the hallway.

“Look who’s up,” he says briskly, clicking off the stove. “Mr. Walk-into-a-Flesh-Avatar’s-Gym- _Alone_ -and-Offer-Him-a-Rib.”

“Martin, I...he wouldn’t have given me a statement if I hadn’t,” Jon replies.

“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” Martin says. “Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t found you!”

“I took a…” Jon beings before pausing, he didn’t take a _calculated_ risk but he wasn’t about to be patronized. “I made my choices, Martin. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is that the man who less than a week ago turned up to my _execution_ and did something he no doubt considers terrible to protect me seems to have so little regard for his own well being that he’s giving body parts away! The big deal is my closest- _only_ friend doesn’t seem to give a damn about his well being!” Martin shouts with tears in his eyes before sighing. “You’re right, you made your choice just… promise you’ll take me with you next time? I know this feeds the Eye but...I don’t like the thought of you vulnerable like that.”

Jon stays quiet for a moment, indignant rage roiling inside of him and mixing with an emotion so soft he dare not name it. Martin understood what Jon had done. He knew clearly how much he meant to Jon and he was enraged that Jon endangered himself. This wasn’t like his grandmother’s annoyance that he’d wandered off again. It was closer to Georgie’s exasperation that he’d pulled another all-nighter or Tim and Sasha dragging him out of the Archive for drinks on a Friday night. This was care for its own sake as if Jon was something precious.

“A-alright,” he says walking into the kitchen to hug Martin. “Sorry I worried you.”

Martin huffs but excepts the hug. Jon realizes it’s the first time they have hugged. He tilts his chin so it rests on Martin’s shoulder and balls his fists in the back of his shirt. Martin tugs him tighter and Jon winces.

“Ah, careful of my right side,” Jon warns and Martin moves his arm so it isn’t pressing against where Jon’s rib used to be. They stay hugging for a period of time that seems both far too long and far too short before parting and finishing dinner.

“Learn anything fun?” Martin asks once they’re sitting with their food.

“Depends on your meaning of “fun” I suppose,” Jon replies. “His was definitely one of the tamer Flesh statements. He did offer to help with stopping the Unknowing which was good. He’s pretty put off by the whole gods, cults, and apocalypse stuff as a whole. So it was certainly useful though not as much as I would have liked.”

“Why not?”

“I was hoping...The way he’s been feeding the Flesh has been sort of...consensual for his victims. They’re still afraid, of course, but… I was hoping to find a better way to go about things. At least with written statements, I’m not adding to my nightmares but they aren’t as satisfying.”

“I don’t think many people would _consent_ to having you in their nightmares if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No I know I just...you know I don’t like hurting people. I know I’m not in a place where I can avoid it altogether but I was sort of hoping for a third option.”

“Sometimes there aren’t third options. We can justify feeding on people however you like but at the end of the day, we’re still monsters.”

“If we’re monsters, why do I still feel like _me?_ ”

“We are the sum of our choices and the choices others make that affect us. Even as the choices you make, or are forced to make, turn you into something you’re afraid of it’s still you making those choices.”

“Then I can’t just blame the Eye for my missing rib,” Jon replies in an attempt at levity. Martin huffs a laugh.

“There’s your terrible knowledge revealed,” Martin replies. “I can help you stop the Unknowing, you know.”

“I just need people to help me set up the explosives,” Jon says. “I’d rather those people be in the right state of mind because the Unknowing will be incredibly disorienting as it is.”

“How will you get outside when the Unknowing is happening?” Martin asks. “ _Jon?”_

“I’ll have to be inside.”

“So you’re just going to bring a building down on yourself?”

“Well I… Elias didn’t have a problem with it and I’m certain he needs me for the Watcher’s Crown.”

“You’re both just going to ride on the hope the Eye will keep you alive? The god of do nothing and watch?”

“I don’t see a better option unless a trust someone made only of arms to set it off and I’d rather not.”

Martin looks at him for a long time.

“We can figure something out,” Martin says finally. “We have time to make a more intricate plan.”

“You want to help me weave a web?” Jon replies.

“Yeah, a web of eyes,” Martin snorts.


	18. The Archivist Draws Closer to the Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon regrets the Boneturning, checks on some friends, "helps" Basira, learns Daisy's fate, and decides the fate of a statement giver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Referenced suicide

Jon can’t fall asleep that night because of the dark purple bruise that blooms across his right side where Jared pulled his rib out. Thankfully, it’s his turn on the couch tonight because Martin didn’t feel bad enough for him to give up the bed. He decides to email Basira to tell her he “found” some statements that could “help” her. If she wants to meet him it won’t cause as much strain on his body as meeting another avatar would.

 **To:** Basira Hussain

 **From:** Jon Sims

 **Subject:** Statements

Officer Hussain,

I have found a few statements from the past few years that may be relevant to your current case. I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be but it’s the best I’ve been able to do. I was hoping we could meet somewhere to avoid a paper trail that could get me fired.

Sincerely,

Jon Sims

He considers taking a hot shower to ease the pain in his side a bit but decides against it so as to not wake Martin. Instead, he heats up most of a bag of rice and presses it to his side. He tries to properly relax by listening to _What the Ghost? _Apparently Georgie took Melanie on as a co-host recently. It makes Jon happy to know that they’re both out of the mess he’s in with the Dread Powers. At least as out of it as anyone can be. Even if Melanie still hates him in his nightmares at least he helped her in the waking world.__

__He listens through a few episodes before Basira emails him back at nearly four in the morning._ _

__**To:** Jon Sims_ _

__**From:** Basira Hussain_ _

__**Subject:** Re:Statements_ _

__Sims,_ _

__There’s a coffee shop across from the station. Does today at 8 am work?_ _

__-Basira_ _

__

__Jon considers it. He has the photocopied files with him and getting this done early leaves him the rest of the day to get some work done at the Institute. Plus, he might be able to check in on her investigations so far so he emails her back confirmation, gets the address of the coffee shop, and shoots Martin a text before he leaves. There are a few more spider webs in his flat and he eyes them meaningfully on his way out._ _

__

__Basira looks far worse for wear than the last time Jon saw her. The bags under her eyes have bags, her clothes are disheveled, and she has a wild look in her eye like she’s constantly looking over her shoulder. The last time she was even close to this stressed was right after she was sectioned the Eye tells him unhelpfully._ _

__“Good morning officer,” he says when he sees her._ _

__“Skip it,” she says curtly. “Give me the files.”_ _

__“Oh, yes,” he says fumbling to get them out of his bag. “I’m not sure how much help they’ll be but all of the follow-up stapled with the statements so they should give you something.”_ _

__“Right,” she says, glancing at the first one he hands her. “Name’s spelled kind of funny.”_ _

__“Yes, well there’s no accounting for how people think a name is spelled when they’ve only heard it. Plenty of people add an ‘h’ to my name so I figured any name that’s close should do.”_ _

__She looks at him for a moment like she’s considering what to do with him._ _

__“Thanks,” she says._ _

__“I-if you don’t mind my asking, how is the investigation going?”_ _

__“I’ve got nothing but a name and no help from anyone but you,” she replies and Jon winces. He’s her only help and he’s misleading her. “No offense but one man in a dusty basement isn’t my idea of back-up. She just now got reported missing. Right now my best hope is for someone else to come in with a missing person tied to Blackwood or for someone to come in asking about a report they filed that we somehow _lost._ ”_ _

__“I-I’m sorry,” Jon says. “I’ll try to keep an eye out for anything.”_ _

__“Thanks.”_ _

__“If you ever want to give a statement about anything...,” Jon says because he _knows_ she has several. “Some people find it helps.”_ _

__She gives him a hard look but doesn’t say anything else._ _

__

__Jon spends the whole ride to the Institute staring at his hands and thinking about Mrs. Smith. She would want to know if the police had done anything about Martin and would eventually go looking unless she prevented in some way. There was no way to help her but he couldn’t just tell Martin it might be a good idea to kill her. She was just a kindly old woman who happened to live across from the wrong person and now she had Jon haunting her dreams and no husband._ _

__There could be a third option. Jon knew Martin didn’t always kill people to feed their fear to the Web. Maybe if she could be convinced to move across the country then at the very least she wouldn’t be _available_ to London Metro. He’ll have to discuss it with Martin when he gets home._ _

__

__He gets a good bit of work done before the Eye decides to tell him _Daisy Tonner threw herself into the sea, hoping that if her corpse was never found there would be enough of an investigation to find Martin. Unfortunately, her corpse drifted across the channel and was found on a French beach. The authorities are unable to identify the body and are searching for missing persons matching the approximate description._ There was no way for him to tell anyone without raising suspicion so all he can do is watch and wait and feed the Eye with Basira’s dread._ _

__

__Jon comes home early to make dinner for himself and Martin._ _

__“How was officer nosey?” Martin asks after drinking half a glass of water over a bite Jon’s curry._ _

__“I’m the only one giving her leads,” Jon replies. “ _but_ her partner has been reported missing and her body floated over to France. So there’s a good chance Officer Hussain will go there and be out of our hair for a bit. Although, I am a bit worried about a...loose end. The woman whose husband you, um, ate may come into the station again looking for answers and…”_ _

__“I could just wrap her up in my web, too,” Martin says nonchalantly._ _

__“Actually I was thinking...maybe you could get her to move away? Maybe isolate herself so she’s difficult to get a hold of and can’t readily tell Officer Hussain anything.”_ _

__Martin smiles fondly at him._ _

__“You’re a softy, you know that? I’ll get her to do that instead,” Martin replies._ _

__“I mean...if you prefer,” Jon stammers._ _

__“It bothers you so I won’t kill her. I can’t promise what I’ll do in the future, though.”_ _

__“Oh...oh,” Jon says quietly. “But...it shouldn’t bother me. You said yourself I should try to enjoy it. I already am this but I...I still feel guilty about all this.”_ _

__“You _should_ try to enjoy it. You were boxed into a corner and tricked into being a monster. It isn’t fair and I’m not going to make you suffer more by making you my accomplice. Besides, maybe you’ll get more used to what you are if she stays in your dreams.”_ _


	19. The Archivist Sees a New Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has more questions about Michael, gets some of those questions answered, re-meets Helen, and stresses Martin out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Suicidal ideation  
> Emotional Manipulation

Jon sits at his desk and pokes at his bruise. He muses if it’s worth it to try to discover new ways to be an avatar. It must be. Martin seemed certain that Jon’s path would only have one fork: the path of death and the path of monstrousness but Jon had to believe there was a third option. Not many avatars themselves seemed to have given statements over the years as far as Jon could tell and anyone who had drawn away from the powers seems to have died. What he wouldn’t do to get Evan Lukas’s statement. He muses about asking Elias for a statement but decides against it. Elias wouldn’t likely give that statement willingly and Jon doubts he could properly compel him at this point. Even if he could, doing so would raise his suspicions about Jon’s personal plans and Elias certainly wants Jon to be a fully realized avatar by the time he attempts the Watcher’s Crown.

He wonders yet again about Michael Shelley. Surely Gertrude did everything she could to save him but he can’t find anything about him in her tapes, her laptop, _or_ the Archive. Unless the Distortion took everything but Jon somehow doubts it. He decides to look deeper into the Archives. He finds a few more Spiral statements from early in the Institute’s history and returns to his office.

“Archivist, you’re looking well,” Michael says from a door behind his desk. “It’s a shame, really.” 

“Oh, Michael...Shelley,” Jon says. “You-you’ve been away a while.”

“Have I? I had hoped to avoid this for a bit longer but you’re too much The Archivist. I have to kill you.”

“I-I’m sorry Gertrude couldn’t save you but-” Jon begins, backing into a very closed door. Michael bursts into laughter. It awful and echoing while Jon tries to scramble with the doorknob that suddenly isn’t there.

“You think Gertrude wanted to _save_ Michael Shelley? No Archivist, she made him me. I never wanted to _be_ Michael. Being Michael stole the only purpose I have ever known. Before I was Michael I was something else.”

“Is that why you came to my flat? Did you think I...I let Tim and Sasha die on purpose?”

“Michael would have given a better answer than me, but as I said; you are too much the Archivist so you have to die but first ask your questions.”

Jon hopes Elias _knows_ the Distortion is in the Archives intent to kill Jon and will come down to help him. Otherwise he’d have to hope whatever spiders Martin has on him come to his aid. He tells himself he’s stalling by taking Michael’s statement and not that the need to _know_ is nearly bypassing his self-preservation.

Michael Shelley’s statement is _awful._ Jon knew Gertrude was ruthless but the idea that she would sacrifice her own assistant is somehow more monstrous than anything he’s done. The thought of _willfully_ throwing people he cared about into a ritual makes him sick. After what happened with Danny Tim would want to stop the Unknowing but Jon couldn’t imagine not even explaining the risks to him. Sasha was so brave but he couldn’t imagine losing her to the Stranger if he had any power to stop it. Gertrude had _tricked_ Michael Shelley into becoming the Distortion the way Elias had tricked him into becoming the Archivist.

“Go on, Archivist,” it says once the statement ends, the twisting headache of the Spiral still spinning in Jon’s head. “I’ll give you a head start.”

“No,” Jon says firmly. Michael laughs.

“ _No?_ Would you rather live to see yourself become as ruthless as Gertrude? You’re certainly a better Archivist and the Spider is helping you along that way so well.”

Jon bites back a retort. He is aware that Martin enables his more monstrous tendencies but there wasn’t anyone else to help him in his becoming. Maybe if Michael actually gave a shit about him being a bad Archivist he would have pushed him down another path.

“You seemed so upset at the thought of people being hurt before. Surely you would want to save them from you.”

Jon winces but...he’s right. There very clearly was no third option between death and monster. Elias could stop the Unknowing himself if he really wanted to and if Martin blamed Elias for Jon’s death that might be incentive enough to take revenge. Jon walks up to the door and…

“It’s locked.”

“It can’t be locked.”

“You try it!”

Michael tries its door frantically before it opens. It falls in, there’s a commotion, and it screams.

“Door trouble?” Something that looks like Helen Richardson asks.

“Helen? Wh-how-Are you alright? What happened?”

“Michael got distracted so I became Helen. Helen is better than Michael.”

“Helen, I’m so sorry. I-I suppose you aren’t fully Helen Richardson, are you?”

“No more than I was fully Michael Shelley.”

“Do you still want to kill me?”

“That’s what Michael wanted. Not me. Helen Richardson liked you so...I have some things to think about. I’ll give you back your doorknob first.”

With that, the Distortion leaves Jon alone in his office. He had been right when he assumed Helen Richardson was still alive in the corridors but he hadn’t done anything about it. He hadn’t even asked after her. Maybe he was already as ruthless as Gertrude.

He’s certain Elias is in the building but he doesn’t feel him enter the Archive. He either _knew_ Helen was about to replace Michael or he didn’t care enough to come to Jon’s aid. There are fewer spiders in his office now. He has a good idea where they went so he texts Martin.

**Jon:** Whatever your spies tell you, I’m fine.

**Martin:** I don’t exactly get a play by play you know. My web doesn’t work like the Eye. I just get tugs when you’re in danger. What happened? I thought you were at the Institute

**Jon:** I am.

**Jon:** The Distortion came to kill me but then it became Helen Richardson.

**Jon:** I don’t understand it, either.

**Martin:** At least you didn’t go looking for trouble. Didn’t you say you think Elias wants to keep you alive?

**Jon:** This does run counter to that.

**Martin:** Are you sure he’s not just letting you run headlong into danger in the hopes that you do die?

**Jon:** He did warn we about The Distortion

**Jon:** and you, for that matter.

**Jon:** If you plan on killing me I would prefer you got it over with soon.

**Martin:** I’d very much like to keep you alive, actually. I thought I was pretty clear about that.

**Jon:** You were. I was just joking.

**Martin:** Don’t about that :(

**Jon:** Sorry

**Martin:** I worry about you enough as it is.

Jon almost types “What makes me so special?” but decides against it. Martin had essentially given him that answer already. Jon had inflicted the greatest horror he had the power to inflict on Martin and it made Martin _like_ him. It makes Jon wonder what Martin would be like without the Web’s influence. He imagines Martin would be as warm as he is with Jon with other people and it makes him feel jealous.


	20. The Archivist Chooses the Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a heart to heart with Martin, makes more plans for the Unknowing, and deals with Elias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Referenced Past Suicidal Ideation  
> Past Bullying Mention

“I need your help,” Jon says as soon as he gets home that evening.

“What do you need?” Martin asks immediately.

“I just...I need you to _make_ me choose. I’m afraid to die and I’m afraid of becoming “The Archivist” and I _know_ there isn’t another way but I can’t...I feel so guilty. I can’t just watch people in my nightmares knowing I put them there!” Jon exclaims, gesticulating nervously.“Even with Basira...I’m doing it to protect you but I still feel bad setting her on a wild goose chase. I just...I need you to force me not to care anymore.”

“Jon, I can’t take that choice from you. I won’t be what you use to justify hating yourself. Especially when you’ve clearly made up your mind.”

“I haven’t! Today I was...I was going to let Michael kill me. To prevent myself from causing further harm. I was terrified but I...I don’t want to die, Martin,” Jon tries to explain. Martin makes such a sad face it breaks Jon’s heart.

“Oh, Jon,” he says so gently Jon can’t keep his gaze.

“I trust you to just...make it easier, please,” Jon says and Martin stays quiet for a long time. The Eye chooses this moment to inform him that Martin wrote poetry as a teenager. Pretty mediocre but he tried to perform it and he got laughed off the stage. It makes Jon angry. No one should treat Martin like that. Jon reaches for Martin’s hand to comfort him from the harsh words of teenagers from nearly a decade ago.

“Do you feel guilty about Tonner?” Martin asks quietly.

“She was going to kill you, Martin.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I…” Jon begins and pauses for a moment. He had had this conversation with himself before. He had always justified himself in protecting Martin and himself but… _Did_ he feel guilty? Any thought he has of her feels the same as his thought of Prentiss or Elias or the Circus. Things that hurt the people he loved. “I don’t.”

“What makes her different?”

“She was going to take you away from me,” Jon replies firmly. “Sorry, that sounded a bit intense.”

“It’s fine,” Martin says, squeezing Jon’s hand. “Just...No, we’re talking about you.”

“I asked you to use the Web. You’re just asking questions.”

“I’m not going to use the Web. Whatever version of you I would have after dragging you down a hundred paths I spun up for you isn’t the version I...care about. Besides, I think you’ve already made your choice I’m just trying to get an idea of your thinking.”

“It’d be easier if you could compel me. Wouldn’t it?” Jon muses.

“Oh sure,” Martin huffs a laugh and puts on his best Jon impression. “Jon, why do you insist on feeling guilty about things that are just in your nature now?”

“I don’t know,” Jon says. “Every other avatar seems to instantly lose their regrets when they become an avatar and I’m just...wallowing in it.”

“I still feel regrets, Jon,” Martin says. “Just not about the things you do.”

“What do you regret?”

“Sending you to Mike Crew, for one thing. I didn’t _like_ you at the time and he _hurt_ you. He sent you to _Jude Perry_ for goodness sake! She could have killed you and then I would never have gotten the chance to befriend you.”

“How do you pick and choose whose suffering upsets you?”

“It’s just you, Jon and I’ve been pretty clear why.”

“Oh,” Jon says. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s difficult to wrap his mind around being this special to anyone. “I see. I think we should go over the plans for the Unknowing.”

“Ok?”

“I mean. I shouldn’t risk myself. I-it upsets you and I...I don’t think my choice is death or the Eye anymore. It’s death or _you_.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Martin says, dropping Jon’s hand.

“It is, though. If I properly give myself over to the Eye we can...we’ll be,” Jon pauses at the implications of what he wants to stay. “I can just worry over you and try to ignore everyone else.”

“So,” Martin says nervously. “The Unknowing?”

“Yes, I had some thoughts,” Jon beings. “Firstly, I think we should warn who or whatever of the Flesh wants to help of the danger. We don’t want their friends coming for revenge when they die.”

“Alright. What about you? How do we keep _you_ from dying in an explosion?”

“I was hoping you would have some ideas?”

“Well, do you have to be _inside_ the Unknowing to stop it?”

“Unfortunately I believe so, the last Unknowing was stopped when avatar of the Slaughter lead a company of undead soldiers inside with a cannon to shoot down the dancer in the midst of the Unknowing.”

“Don’t modern detonators have a wider range than a cannon?”

“I suppose but if I don’t set it off _as_ the Unknowing is happening there’s a chance of them trying again immediately.”

“Shouldn’t you be able to… _know_ when it starts?”

“I...I don’t think I can trust the fate of the world to the Eye.”

“It might help if you became more powerful?”

“I should start taking more live statements,” Jon decides. They spend the rest of the evening with Martin hovering around him. Jon buys them both take-out to make up for the undue stress he’s caused Martin and laughs at his awkward attempts to use chopsticks to eat rice. He does suspect that Martin might be playing it up a bit for his benefit and it further cements Jon’s decision to put all of his care on Martin.

He walks into Elias’s office first thing in the morning.

“I think we should start advertising looking for statements again,” he says as soon as Elias greets him.

“Is that what the Web wants you to do?” Elias asks smoothly.

“Yes, Martin told me all about the Web’s plans to make me a better servant of the Eye,” Jon replies sarcastically. “I simply think that the Archive could use some fresher statements.”

Elias looks like he’s calculating something for a moment.

“I suppose I can allocate a budget for something if you complete the follow-up on that statement I put on your desk a few weeks ago,” Elias says.

“Alright,” Jon acquiesces. “I’ll go speak with the Buried avatar from America and you can buy a billboard with money you won off Simon Fairchild over the survivability of that parachute in Artifact storage.”

“Interesting, did you just _know_ that?”

“You can’t be surprised by that.”

“Then this isn’t the first time it’s happened?”

“No,” Jon says curtly. “I believe we’re done here.”

“Yes, I believe we are done for the moment. Have a good day, Jon,” Elias says in false pleasantness.


	21. The Archivist and The Spider Go Beneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon talks to a Buried avatar with Martin in tow and then comforts Martin from the ensuing nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs  
> Financial Instability  
> Kidnapping  
> Violence  
> Live Burial

Martin is less than thrilled about Jon going out to interact with yet another avatar. Even more so because it’s at Elias’s behest but he goes along to the cramped office where Carl Green, an avatar of the Buried and extortionist, worked. The receptionist greets them pleasantly enough and they sit together in the small, stuffy waiting room where Jon imagines plenty of people sit as a last resort. Eventually, a stout man in his mid-50s comes out of his office and beckons them inside.

“What can I do for you two?” He asks as they decent a cramped stairway. “Is the Magnus Institute looking for funding?”

“Er...no, Mr. Green,” Jon says as the walls are getting tighter and the dim lighting doesn’t make anything better. He has to reach behind himself to grab Martin’s hand.

“No?” Green says. “A statement, then. Not much further.”

When they reach Green’s office both Jon and Martin have to stoop. It became increasingly difficult to breathe while walking down the stairs and now Jon feels like an elephant is sitting on his chest. From the looks of it, Martin isn’t fairing much better this close to the Buried.

“Ok, Archivist what did you want to ask me?”

“ **How did you get into this business?** ”

“Go ahead and say your introduction,” Green sighs.

“Statement of Carl Green regarding his business ventures. Statement recorded direct from subject 15 July 2017. Statement begins:”

“I didn’t use to be good with money. When my debt collection really started was the day I moved away from home. I want to buy a house to impress people, so I took out a mortgage that was probably outside of my price range. Not that I realized that at the time. The funny thing is I worked at a bank at the time. You would think that would mean I would have better sense but I didn’t. Maybe that’s why the bank never gave me promotion. 

It wasn’t just the house. Car payments, the types of cars that cost a lot to insure. Appliances, furniture, and so on and so forth until I was nearly half a million in the hole by my 30th birthday.

I couldn’t stop. I was in a circle who liked the finer things and expected me to _have_ the finer things but the bank had stopped loaning money to me and no one would let me open a credit card so I had to start turning to the less than legal side of things. Dealing with the kind of men that made me want to wash my hands twice before coming home. The kind of men, as I’m sure you can imagine, that aren’t as forgiving as the banks. I was taking loans to pay for loans to pay for loans to pay for football tickets. I felt smothered by the debt and there was no way out. Not unless I wanted to admit to my neighbors and friends that I was a penniless loser.

At some point I was so deep in the hole that it wasn’t an _if_ but a when for a couple of enforcers to come after me. They broke into my house, beat me, and threw me in their trunk. I pleaded with them and promised I would get the money. I just needed more time. They just laughed and beat me unconscious. I don’t know how long I waited when I woke up there in the dark. The press of the coffin looming over me. Clawing at the lid didn’t help. I just thrashed and screamed until there was nothing left in me.

When I woke up it was daylight and I was outside of my grave like that ground itself had birthed me. I went after the men who buried me and put them all into my empty grave.

Then I sold everything and moved here. Something called me into this office. I was surprised by the stairs that lead down here but it’s perfect for my work. People come down here because they’re hard-pressed and I’m nice enough to give them a loan or two. Enough so they can keep up a lavish lifestyle or feed their kids. Some of them even pay me off but most don’t. The cool damp of the earth is all I need.”

During the entire statement, Martin has gotten more distressed and Jon can’t blame him. The looming press of the Buried is _awful_. It strikes him then that Mr. Green was _enjoying_ Martin’s fear. Never mind his own.

“Before we go, Mr. Green,” Jon says and he stands. “ **What would someone need to put you in jail?** ”

“All they would really need is an excuse to dig under my office,” Green responds. Martin immediately yanks Jon out of the office as quickly as possible before Green could retaliate.

“ **If I worked in a place like this I’d get as much evidence to the police as possible** ,” Martin calls to the receptionist on the way out.

They’re two blocks away, still hand in hand when Martin stops.

“What the hell, Jon?” He asks. “You can’t just go around openly provoking avatars.”

“I...He was _hurting you_ and he was enjoying it,” Jon snaps. “I refuse to stand for that!”

“ _Jon_ ,” Martin sighs and pulls him into a hug. “I appreciate your concern but trust me when I say you in danger is more of a problem than the Buried.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to chaperone me like this again,” Jon says, careful not to press Martin into too tight of a hug after the press of Green’s office. “If Elias holds up his end of the bargain.”

“He might still try and get you out on these types of investigations. Since this one didn’t exactly get rid of me.”

“This seems like a pretty bad attempt to get rid of you,” Jon huffs. “I still would like to know what he actually wants and the Eye doesn’t seem keen on just telling me.”

“Just be more careful,” Martin says and breaks off the hug so they can go back to Jon’s flat.

Jon can’t sleep that night. He stares up at the light on the ceiling and tries not to think of the looming press of Carl’s office, debt, or the damp earth. The light helps stave of the dark but it does nothing for the pressing feeling in his lungs. He tries to lay in the quiet for a while before he hears Martin making noise from the couch. If he’s awake then maybe they could talk or sit and watch a movie.

Jon creeps carefully down the dark hallway in case Martin is just sleeptalking. The Eye helpfully shows him Martin’s nightmare. _Bills and invoices and recepts stacking higher and higher. Due dates from homework and projects looming until they collapse and crush Martin down._ Jon nearly falls over in his rush to wake Martin as he whimpers in his sleep.

“Martin, wake up,” Jon say softly, carefully nudging Martin’s shoulder. “It’s me. I’m right here.”

“Jon?” Martin slurs sleepily. “Wha…?”

“You had a nightmare,” Jon whispers. “The Eye...I mean...It didn’t look pleasant.”

“It wasn’t,” Martin says as he sits up. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep. You could take the bed if you’d like,” Jon offers.

“It’s because of the stupid Buried,” Martin grumbles. “Sleeping somewhere else isn’t going to make my dreams more pleasant.”

“What if…” Jon begins and hesitates.

“What if what?” Martin prompts gently at Jon furrowed brow.

“You could...If you want...It’s best not to face the fears alone so...We could share the bed?”

Martin looks startled at the offer. Jon feels like he’s exposed some part of himself to Martin that’s small and fragile. He trusts Martin with it but he’s still afraid.

“You want to cuddle my nightmares away?” Martin asks. “How could I say no?”

Jon turns the light off for Martin before climbing into bed alongside him. Finding a comfortable position is difficult at first and Jon gets the impression Martin doesn’t have a lot of experience being cuddled. Eventually, they tangle themselves together comfortably with Martin’s face pressed firmly against Jon’s chest and both of them on their sides. Martin falls asleep in a moment while Jon considers playing with his hair. Jon doesn’t know when he falls asleep but he’s awake long enough to be reasonably sure Martin isn't having another nightmare.


	22. The Archivist Says Goodbye to the Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a nice morning, wonders where Leitner went, and gets an update on Basira's investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW  
> Death

When Jon wakes up the following morning he’s greeted by a still dozing Martin. His face is slack, a bit of drool drips onto the sheets, and his hair is sticking out at odd angles; it makes Jon’s heart skip a beat. He wonders if Martin would let him wash his hair. The tub in his flat is too small to get Martin into a reasonably good angle but maybe once Martin can go back to his house they could do it there. It would be nice to pamper Martin. To put him in the bath to get him nice and warm and relaxed, then take him out to wrap in a soft robe and cuddle into his softness.

Thoughtlessly, he reaches out to brush a bit of hair away from Martin’s face and Martin’s hand moves to catch his. Briefly, he has the sudden fear of Martin somehow knowing what he was thinking but it passes when Martin smiles across the sheets from him bleary-eyed.

“Sleep well?” Martin rasps still holding Jon’s hand.

“Other than drinking and feeling all the terror of a dozen people to feed the Eye, it was… nice actually. It’s been a while since I cuddled anyone like that,” Jon replies.

“Do you still feel guilty?” Martin asks. The real answer is that he does. Just a little but he tries to press it down. No use feeling bad about something he couldn’t change.

“No,” he lies to make it true. “I mean, not about _my_ nightmares. I don’t enjoy knowing your nightmares without you telling me or...or being the reason _you_ get nightmares.”

“I can’t say I like you _knowing_ things about me, either,” Martin admits. “ _But_ I had an idea of what coming with you yesterday would be like. Those nightmares weren’t your fault; they stopped when you held me.”

There’s a softness in the way Martin looks at him for a moment. Like he wants to say something or he expects Jon to say something but the moment passes. Martin gets up to wash his own hair and Jon gets ready for work.

He gets to work to find that Elias has sent him a few advert designs for him to approve. Annoyingly, they were sent _during_ Carl Green’s statement. Jon wonders how no other avatars have beaten Elias up for being a smarmy know-it-all. Elias probably used knowledge to protect himself the way he failed to protect everyone else. The creep. He approves the advert with the least obnoxious eye pun and expects Elias to ignore his choice completely.

He looks for a few more fake statements to feed Officer Hussain about Martin and re-types them up before going into the tunnels to check for Leitner’s book list. There isn’t one. In fact, the stuff he brought down a few weeks ago hasn’t been moved to where Leitner usually takes his things. He sits back in his office and tries to _know_ where Leitner is. All he gets for his trouble is a splitting headache and a craving for the nearest statement. The pamphlet Leitner had with him was meant to make him hard to find, anyway. Leitner had probably just run off. Decided his deal with Jon wasn’t worth the risk to his craven life. As long as he still showed up in Jon’s nightmares he was still alive although Jon couldn’t honestly say he cared what happened to Leitner.

Jon sends Officer Hussain an email from his phone to offer her more “leads.”

**To:** Basira Hussain

**From:** Jon Sims

**Subject:** More help

Hello Officer Hussain,

I have a few more statements if you’re interested. I can meet anytime today or tomorrow.

Regards,

Jonathan Sims

He’s surprised when she answers almost immediately.

**To:** Jon Sims

**From:** Basira Hussain

**Subject:** Re: More Help

Sims,

Same cafe as before in one hour. Bring a tape recorder.

Thanks

Jon responds in agreement- and with some excitement at the promise of a new live statement- and tells Martin where he’s going. There has been an increase in cobwebs around his office since he lost his rib and it gives him conflicting emotions. On one hand, it was Martin looking after him to make sure he wasn’t being reckless and that was nice, but on the other hand, he still felt trepidation at the sight of spiders. As if Mr. Spider wasn’t just some fiction spun up by the Web. As if his Martin wasn’t the scariest Web avatar in London. As if Jon himself wasn’t the one solely privy to the softest parts of Martin’s heart. Still, he can’t just move past two decades of arachnophobia so the best he can do is ignore them.

Basira looks horrendous when Jon sees her at the cafe like she forgot what sleep was.

“Afternoon, Officer,” Jon greets. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” She looks up at him like she’s surprised to see him there. “Oh, I uh….they found her body.”

“The body of your partner?” Jon asks sympathetically but the Eye tells him. _Yes, they told her this morning. She held back her tears until she was certain she was alone and then she broke down._ The Eye feels satisfied and Jon tries to ignore how guilty he feels. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not much you could have done. They found her in _France._ I’m taking off to go bury her and all that. I just wanted to give you a statement in thanks for helping.”

“ **Is your investigation over, then?** ” Jon asks. It’s important information and Jon can’t risk her lying.

“In England it is. Might try and see if the French have anything they’d tell me but I doubt they’ll be much help. They ruled it a suicide. Which is ridiculous!” Officer Hussain huffs. “Look, unless one of those statements has an address in it, I think I’m just going to give you mine as thanks and leave.”

“It’s more of the same, unfortunately,” Jon sighs, trying to contain his excitement at finding out more about section 31. Apparently, she had had a run-in with the Cult of the Lightless Flame that got her sectioned originally. She talks about Daisy a lot. Jon wonders briefly if giving her any leads, false or not, was a bad idea. He doubts she’ll let go just because Daisy’s body was found. Still, he thanks her for her time and offers his condolences.

He knows that Martin would be safe to return home now but he doesn’t _want_ Martin to go home. His flat would seem too empty. He could lie and tell Martin that Basira was hot on his heels. But he served the god of manipulation and he’d probably see through the flimsy lie. Come to think of it. Martin probably would have been safe to go home when they learned there was no official investigation. Did he _want_ to stay with Jon? It’s all he thinks about on the tube home. Martin cared for him and liked his company and...seemed willing to have Jon care for him. He was happy enough to have Jon cuddle away a nightmare, anyway. Would he be allowed to ask for something other than friendship? He _needed_ Martin as he walked the path of monstrousness. Whatever romance he wanted didn’t matter as much as just being with Martin did.

He finally settles on just not bringing Martin moving out up. He’ll tell Martin about where Basira’s investigation was taking and leave him to draw his own conclusions.


	23. The Archivist Watches the Spider Eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is curious about some things and Martin shows him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW  
> Implied past homophobia  
> Implied fatphobia   
> Murder  
> Cannibalism  
> Spiders  
> Graphic Depictions of Spider-based consumption of a living thing

Martin doesn’t even mention moving back to his house so neither does Jon. He seems more relaxed about going out now, though. They go back to trading the sofa and the bed every other night and on the nights he has the couch Martin usually goes out late. He says he prefers to spin his web at night and Jon can usually get a sense where he is from the Eye. Not enough of a sense that he can fall asleep before Martin gets home, but enough of a sense that he doesn’t try to insist on tagging along. He’s not sure if his curiosity is born from just wanting to know more about someone he cares about or if it’s the Eye prompting him to feed it with the fear of Martin’s victims. He still wants to tell Martin he’s feelings but it’s terrifying. Far more so than it was with Georgie and with how things ended with Georgie...staying friends would be better. As long as Martin could be _his._

The adverts bring in more statement givers. Many of whom come in with “statements” that can be explained away as drunkenness or acute carbon monoxide poisoning. Jon has them write out their statements. He gets an interesting few live statements. Some of the statement givers ask for his help and he just apologizes. He can’t help them. He knows that. More than anything he wants to know what happens to them. He feels a morbid fascination with it. He still feels bad for them, but he knows what happens when he wallows in it. When they stop showing up in his nightmares he looks into them. Most of them die but one becomes an avatar. He begins to wonder about dying at the hands of a Dread Power, but not in the way he used to. At least not that way as often anymore. He wonders if it’s the Eye or himself that’s really curious. Jonah Magnus had let a friend die in the Lonely out of curiosity but Jon would never lose a friend that way. Not when his only friend _was_ an avatar. An avatar who might show Jon exactly how he took victims and Jon all would have to do was ask. At least it would have some effect on the survivor bias in the Archive if he recorded someone’s death at Martin’s hands….or fangs as the case may be.

“Martin,” Jon asks one evening, “would you let me see one of your victims?”

“You see a couple every night, don’t you?”

“That’s not what I...I meant the ones you...um...eat.”

“Really?” Martin asks. “Well, it has been a while. I don’t think eating them feeds the Web as much so I don’t do it that often. Plus it’s gross. I haven’t since we started living together since it was too much of a risk to you.”

“I appreciate it.”

“If you really want to watch me eat something messier than Pad Thai, then I don’t mind but I know how you feel about spiders. My eating habits aren’t too different.”

“And you’re worried it’ll upset me?” Jon clarifies. “I’m sure it will be terrifying but I’m curious and you’re the safest option to sate my curiosity.”

“Good to know you’re taking the safest _option_ ,” Martin says pointedly.

“Alright, _only_ option,” Jon laughs.

“If you’re sure you really want to see. We can go to my house on the weekend.”

“I was hoping to see the whole process, actually.”

“That would be a bit harder with you in tow,” Martin warns.

“How so?”

“Well, I usually pick my prey my going to an overcrowded pub and getting it into their heads that they want to pick _me_ up.”

“What about your neighbor?”

“I just don’t like nosey people,” Martin shrugs.

“I’m nosiness personified,” Jon points out.

“I like your nose,” Martin shrugs again but his face turns red. 

“This weekend at your house it is then?” Jon says quickly.

“Er… yeah,” Martin says to his shoes.

It’s not until they get to Martin’s house that Jon remembers the last time Martin had been there he was nearly beaten to death. He can tell Martin is tense, too. The sight of webs hanging from the ceiling and walls, the things knocked over, and the dried blood in places sets Jon further on edge.

“Martin, we don’t...If you don’t want to we can do this somewhere else,” Jon says nervously.

“I’m the one who wanted to do this here, remember,” Martin replies.

“If you’re sure.”

“You know, it’s supposed to be my job to make people question their choices.”

“I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

“Jon,” Martin says sternly. “Up to this point you’ve been uncomfortable with people suffering and dying at the hands of the Dread Powers. Don’t act like I’m the one who wouldn’t be ok.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jon assures for the umpteenth time that week. He wanted to _know_ and it had to be Martin to show him. Even if it would be the stuff of his personal nightmares.

“If you say so,” Martin replies. “Come into my basement, said the spider to the eye.”

Jon rolls his eyes dramatically and follows Martin down the stairs. The basement is more spiderweb than open space, and to one side he sees a webby cocoon that appears to be cut open containing most of a human skeleton. He doesn’t need the Eye to tell him that it used to be Mr. Smith or that Detective Tonner was the one to cut it open. His whole body trembles at the sheer amount of webs. He just keeps telling himself _it’s Martin, it’s his web, he won’t hurt me_ but he still jumps when Martin puts a hand on his shoulder.

“We could probably find a way to film this if that’s easier on you,” Martin says, drawing his hand back. “Assuming this is still something you really want.”

“No, no it’s fine,” Jon assures him. “I should...get used to this kind of thing. It’s the path I chose.”

“This feels less like a path and more like a cliff’s edge,” Martin says. “I know this is a difficult path for you.”

“Thank you, Martin, but I’ve made my choice. Do you think I should hide so your victim doesn’t see me?” Jon asks as callously as he can.

“You’re not a good liar, Jon,” Martin says with a raised eyebrow.

“Just…” Jon huffs. “Let me lie to myself, ok? They’re a person. I am going to watch you eat a person with thoughts and feelings because I’m _curious_. I want to see what it’s like to die at the hands of a Dread Power because none of the statement givers in the whole Archive have that account. The _Eye_ wants to watch you take the form of my greatest fear and murder a human being and because I’m _trying_ to be its willing servant it’s going to watch through me. You promised to help me with this!”

“You’re right, I did,” Martin admits. “I can pull up a bit of web around you to keep you out of sight.”

“Thank you.”

Jon finds a chair and Martin changes into himself. Jon does his best not to obviously tremble at how _close_ Martin is with his eight eyes and eight legs. Martin begins working to spin the web loosely over Jon. It’s not enough to restrain him but it will hinder him from going anywhere.

“I could just keep you here like this,” Martin muses while he works. “No one could hurt you here.”

“Martin-”

“No flesh hive, no hunter,” Martin continues. “No boneturner, _no one_. I would take good care of you, too. Keep you and the Eye fed.”

“ _Martin_...”

“But you’d hate me for it,” Martin says, cupping Jon’s face. “No point in keeping you if you aren’t happy. I want you and all your kindness to myself but there would be no point if you didn’t _choose_ it.”

“I have all your kindness already, don’t I?” Jon asks shakily.

“You can _ask_ me later but I think you already know.”

Eventually, Martin has Jon wrapped up comfortably in his web and he leaves to go find a target. Jon turns Martin’s...threat? _Confession?_ Over in his head. That’s what it was, right? It felt like one. Except Martin didn’t really say anything he hadn’t before. His affection for Jon had always been a looming thing. That didn’t mean it was _romantic_. The more Jon sits and thinks about it, the more the Eye tells him about Martin. Awful things. _Martin’s first crush wrote a slur on his locker when he confessed. Martin’s closest friends stopped talking to him afterward. No one has ever said the words “I love you” to Martin Blackwood._ Jon feels tears spring up in his eyes and he blinks them away. He tries to concentrate on something else for the Eye to tell him about so he doesn’t think about feeling trapped in Martin’s web. The Eye tells him Martin’s latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates. Jon’s sure would be helpful if he got out his phone and figured out what the random numbers and degrees meant.

Martin returns with someone an hour later. Jon hears him shout about “getting ready” as he walks down the stairs. The four spider legs that sprout from Martin’s back don’t seem to have any effect on his clothes Jon notes as Martin spins several lines of very sticky thread at the end of the stairwell.

“Are you ok, Jon?” Martin asks. “This is your last chance to back out on this.”

“Yes...yes I’m alright, thank you.”

Martin smiles suddenly too wide and nods.

Jon watches as some enthused pub-goer walks down Martin’s stairs. All the while negging Martin. Talking about how he usually doesn’t go for fat guys but Martin is so cute. Jon almost feels righteous satisfaction when he gets caught in Martin’s web. The victim stumbles forward towards Martin and then back once he sees the eight black eyes. It also seems like he’s forgotten there was a way out was as he scrambles around the basement until he runs right into Martin’s arms. Jon watches with equal parts dread and fascination as Martin’s mouth splits open to allow his fangs to do the job of both grabbing the victim’s neck and injecting venom. The man yells and thrashes for a few moments before he goes totally still in Martin’s many arms. Distantly Jon remembers that spider venom begins the digestive process outside of the body as Martin begins to pull the bits of his victim that are sloughing off into his mouth. It’s horrific and it’s _fasinating_. Jon feels locked in place watching Martin eat through blood and skin and flesh for what must be hours before Martin stops and looks up at him.

“You can move whenever you want you know,” Martin says while wiping the mess off of his face. Jon blinks, startled. He feels the way he does after a statement ends. Hazy, someone else’s fear still echoing in the back of his head, and deeply satisfied.

“Oh, right,” he says numbly. As he stands up, legs popping, the webs just slide off of him but then he just stands there staring at Martin.

“Was it what you were hoping for?” Martin asks carefully as more spiders than Jon would like to consider descend upon the corpse.

“I...I don’t know what I was hoping for,” Jon says softly. “I think I enjoyed it.”


	24. The Archivist and the Spider Have Strong Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Martin have a long-awaited conversation and plot to kill Elias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW  
> Referenced cannibalism

Jon sits in Martin’s living room while Martin showers the gore off of himself. While he waits he writes out a statement. He had brought a tape recorder but all it picked up was the sounds of Martin eating. He was right about it being gross and once Jon gets past his initial fascination with Martin’s inhuman eating habits he swears off all pudding for the next year. Martin had offered Jon a frozen meal from his freezer but Jon declined on similar grounds. At least he assumes what happened in the basement is why his appetite is gone and it’s not because he fed the Eye so well it literally fed him.

He thinks about washing Martin’s hair again while he waits. How Martin would unwind while Jon gave him a scalp massage. Jon can almost imagine the look of surprise on Martin’s face if he bent down and pressed a kiss onto Martin’s nose while his eyes are closed. Martin had told Jon that he wanted Jon’s kindness all for himself so maybe he would let him some time.

Martin walks out of the shower in his pajamas with his hair still wet and looks at Jon.

“We should probably head to bed,” Martin yawns.

“Together?” Jon asks cautiously.

“Yeah? Unless...I can get you some blankets if you prefer the couch.”

“Oh, I just thought...I didn’t want to impose.”

“A bit late to worry about imposition,” Martin yawns again. Jon agrees and follows Martin to bed. He decides it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission as he curls against Martin who shifts slightly to pull him in before dropping off to sleep. Jon smiles at how quickly Martin falls asleep owing it partly to the large meal but hoping his presence is having a calming effect on him. It’s certainly calming to Jon. He doesn’t fear the dark while his Martin is in his arms.

Jon wakes up with Martin’s fingers threading through his hair and his ear pressed against Martin’s chest. He nuzzles closer; Martin’s fingers pause and his heart rate ticks up.

“I offered to answer a question for you last night,” Martin rasps slowly.

“I know the answer to that question,” Jon whispers.

“Not-not _entirally_ ,” Martin says nervously. “Unless the Eye told you?”

“I don’t think I’m comfortable pulling information about our relationship out of you.”

“What if I want you to?” Martin asks. “What if I’m so afraid of how you’ll react that _asking_ would feed the Eye?”

Jon moves up so he’s eye to eye with Martin. He’s still sleep mussed and his hair is messier than usual for having slept with it wet but there’s a fear in his eyes. Jon can taste it. It isn’t a statement but it was a knowledge that Martin was afraid to reveal. He looks so fragile with Jon looming over him.

“You’re certain you want this?” Jon asks, remembering how often in their early relationship he wasn’t allowed to ask any questions. Martin nods. “Martin, _what are you afraid to tell me?_ ”

“Jon I...I love you,” Martin whispers. “You have my entire heart. All the soft parts I thought had died years ago _burn_ for you. I know I matter to you but I’m not someone who gets to be loved. I would be so happy being your friend but I want to be your boyfriend. I want to properly move in together. I want to kiss you if that’s something you want. I want to go on lavish dates with you where I can spoil you with other people’s money.”

“I love you, Martin,” Jon says firmly. “I’m a coward for not saying it the moment I realized it and I’m sorry. After the Unknowing and Elias are dealt with we’ll go somewhere I never I have to take my eyes off of you again.”

Jon leans down and kisses Martin. It’s careful and clumsy when Martin surges up to kiss him back but it’s perfect.

Martin is in a delightfully good mood for the next few days. Jon is pretty sure he’s showing off the way he manipulates the moving company to pack up his things for free and he’s certain of it when Jon’s landlord happily gives them a larger apartment at no increased cost. It’s still one bedroom but the kitchen is spacious and there’s enough space in the living room for both of their book collections. They make the decision to keep Martin’s house for the next time Jon gets to watch him feed to avoid an ordeal with a public basement.

“I can’t believe you stole my heart and you don’t care for poetry!” Martin says with exasperation.

“I just prefer prose, is all,” Jon defends. “I like things to be clear or I spend months being openly affectionate to someone I think just wants to be my friend.”

Martin snorts when he laughs and Jon is happy he at least got to choose Martin.

Jon is almost certain Elias is actively avoiding him. It’s not that Jon deliberately seeks his boss out but he arrives at the same time Elias does for two days in a row and somehow misses him. Rosie mentions both times that Elias got there early. It could be a coincidence but Jon spends too much time with someone who dealt in suspicious coincidences almost as a profession not to grow suspicious. Of course, if Elias showed up early then he would have to know when Jon was going to be there. He doesn’t like to think of Elias keeping track of him. Especially after he’s repeatedly allowed Jon to get attacked, mutilated, and kidnapped. What’s worse is that both he and Martin aren’t big fans of public displays of affection and knowing Elias could be peaking in on them makes his skin crawl.

When he goes to confront Elias Rosie pleasantly informs him that Elias has gone off on vacation. He _asks_ her where and she tells him. Jon doesn’t know if Elias told her the truth and he wonders at him apparently leaving the country so close to the Unknowing. Although if Elias was away from the Institute it could mean he’s too far away to spy on Jon.

**Jon:** How would you like to visit me at work?

**Martin:** I don’t think your boss would appreciate it

**Jon:** He’s on “vacation.”

**Jon:** I want to see if he can still See me while he’s away.

**Jon:** Plus there’s something I want to show you that might help with our Elias problem.

**Martin:** Do you want me to bring lunch?

**Jon:** It’s a date.

Jon shows Martin down into the tunnels where he knows Elias can’t see them. They’re disorienting enough for Jon that he regrets suggesting having their lunch there instead of in his office but it’s not too terrible.

“So this is where you do all of your nosey business,” Martin says.

“ _Most_ of it happens upstairs,” Jon replies. “All that’s down here is Leitner.”

“That’s all? Isn’t it a bit weird for a stronghold of the Eye to be built on top of someplace so...Spiral-y?”

“This is just a part of the Millbank Prison,” Jon replies. “Smirke probably built it with his “balance” theory in mind before Leitner started re-arranging the tunnels. The Panopticon was likely the Eye piece but it’s probably collapsed.”

“You haven’t been curious enough to explore more?”

“Of course I have but for the longest time, I felt bad for Leitner. I tore his secrets from him and I knew he was afraid of me. I felt justified even after I knew it was him in those nightmares but I just left him alone.”

“Do you think he’d help with the Unknowing or the Elias problem?”

“Unlikely,” Jon replies. “He seems more afraid of Elias than he was of me and he told me everything he knows about the Stranger. Which was mostly theory, anyway. Besides, I have no idea where he is.”

“I thought you said he lived in the tunnels.”

“He _did_ but he hasn’t communicated in almost a month. So either he’s left or he’s given up keeping our end of the bargain.”

“Or he’s been captured but isn’t dead,” Martin offers.

“I suppose. Either way, I don’t think he’ll be much help on either front.”

“So what can we do about Elias?”

“We need to find a way to distract him enough that he won’t see us coming,” Jon says. “ I know he’s distracted on Wednesday while he schedules but he’s also in his office while he schedules. I could ask Rosie his schedule but I would worry he’d know and change his schedule around. Ideally, we could just bring him down here but I’m not sure I would be able to lure him to my Archive. ”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” Martin asks with the fond expression that Jon used to associate with his own reluctance to be the Archivist.

“Well, yes,” he says sheepishly. “He tricked me down this path, he let my friends die, and he has the _audacity_ to question you. I don’t like him or trust him and I’ll feel much better when he’s dead.”


	25. The Archivist Takes the Spider Into the Archive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon reads a statement to Martin and Martin introduces Jon to an old "friend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW  
> Paranoia  
> Helplessness

Elias doesn’t show his face at the Institute for an entire week. It’s suspicious but Jon is content to have Martin come by most days. He had started asking to listen in on statements Jon records. So Jon decides to pick a Web statement to make it easier in case the fear Jon tastes in the statements work like a miasma. Martin sits on the couch in Jon’s office and watches fondly as Jon records the statement of Alexia Crawly. Jon can relate to being signed up to a project and not fully understanding the consequences. Although in his case he got Martin out of the deal. Ms. Crawly got traumatized by an auteur-director who had become enthralled by a Leitner and eaten by something claiming to be Neil Lagorio. It’s probably terrible to say that he’s lucky but it’s true.

When he comes down from the cobwebby haze of the statement Martin is watching him with rapt attention.

“Enjoying yourself?” Jon asks. Martin blinks at him.

“Is it always like that?” Martin asks in return. “You can sort of...take on the voice of the statement?”

“Oh, yes,” Jon replies, blushing. “I’m not sure how much of that is the Eye and how much of that is the bit of theatre I did at uni.”

“You think the Eye just likes a bit of a show?”

“It is called the Watcher, after all,” Jon replies. “You didn’t have any...side effects from listening, did you?”

“I couldn’t stop listening,” Martin says. “It felt like...It almost felt like I was there at times.”

Jon flinches. Having Martin suffer the way he did for so long is the last thing he wanted.

“It wasn’t bad,” Martin rushes to say. “Web fear _is_ my whole deal after all. It was just sort of like...I don’t know. Backwash? Like I recognized the fear but it wasn’t mine to take.”

“I suppose if you really got into it it’s me baby-birding you Neil Langorio’s backwash,” Jon says and Martin makes a noise of disgust.

“Let’s not think of it like that.”

“Alright,” Jon laughs.

“So are these better or worse than live statements?”

“They’re less...filling. I did get by on just them but a live statement is so much better. I suppose you can think of it as only eating ramen for every meal versus a balanced diet. It’s possible but it’s miserable.”

“Oh you work much differently than me,” Martin says.

“How so?”

“I think it would be better to give you one of my more involved victims to snack on.”

“Now you’re just tempting my curiosity,” Jon says fondly.

The next day, Martin comes in with a haggard-looking man who seems to be about their age. He reeks of a Web statement in a way that almost makes Jon’s mouth water.

“Why don’t you sit down for the Archivist, Glenn?” Martin asks gently and the man quickly complies.

“Do you have a last name, Glenn?” Jon asks in the cold academic tone he’s taken on with his statement givers. It helps to detach himself although he can’t imagine how well it will work here since it’s a statement about someone he’s personally connected to.

“I-It’s Blanc, sir,” the man stammers out. “Martin said you might be able to help me?”

“Did he?” Jon asks as his mouth curls into a sly grin. “I suppose giving a statement helps some people but there isn’t much I can personally do for you.”

“O-oh,” Glenn says nervously.

“Statement of Glenn Blanc regarding a string of bad choices. Statement recorded 26 July, 2017. Statement begins.”

“The average person makes conscious 35,000 decisions per day. Did you know?

We go about our lives decided what to eat, who to talk to, and everything else. Sometimes we don’t even register it as a choice. Most people don’t think about getting out of bed in the morning. They just do it. Even fewer people consider how choices come into being for them. What did they do to own a bed? Who invented beds? Someone _decided_ the people should sleep in beds.

How much control do we really have over our own lives? We don’t choose to be born. We don’t choose our parents or siblings or neighbors. They all just exist. They make choices that affect us. We make choices that affect them. How much free will can we really say we have in the face of each other’s “free will?”

It all started when I came back from my gap year. I was at a party and had run into Martin. We had gone to school together and I wasn’t the best classmate. I was a bully, in fact, so when I saw Martin at the party I went up to him to awkwardly apologize and we got to talking. I mentioned I was going to uni to study art. Martin asked about jobs in that area and I told him about graphic design and comic book artists. Hell, worst comes to worst I could always try my hand at making my own comic or something. Martin just said business seemed like a more stable career field. I rolled my eyes at the time. I had heard it before from older relatives. All worried I would become some “starving artist.”

I chose to listen to him. He chose to give me that advice. I chose to go to that party in the first place. The person throwing it chose to invite Martin. Martin chose to come. I chose to talk to Martin at all. I listened to other kids who chose to bully him. I chose to go apologize.

I changed my major the next week. I was miserable in almost all of my classes but it was the best choice. I kept telling myself that. I tried to make connections and I made some decent friends. Decent as in always took me to the best parties and introduced me to my first serious girlfriend. Serious girlfriend studied art. I don’t even know if I actually liked her or just her field of study but by the time we broke up I hated her, art, and at least half of my “friends” who had chosen her side.

I barely graduated because I decided that partying with my friends was more fun than studying. Maybe they just chose a beer I liked. Maybe I just liked that beer because that’s what the store chose to sell. After graduation, I ran into Martin again. It was while I was on the way to an interview. It actually seemed like it might be a decent place to work. I just decided to buy Martin lunch instead. He chose a ham sandwich. I chose a ham sandwich. The sandwich shop didn’t choose to carry pumpernickel bread. We talked for a bit and he mentioned how sad I looked. I told him about my difficult job search. He just told me how sad it was that I didn’t seem to be enjoying myself and wouldn’t I be better off doing something I actually liked?

I couldn’t even be mad at him. Yeah, I changed my major on his advice but it’s not like he forced me or anything. He just pointed out an option I always knew existed. I didn’t even know what I did like by that point. I liked partying with my friends but I couldn’t do that professionally. Someone decided it was only acceptable to get drunk recreationally. I was still ok at art but I couldn’t make what I needed to live on commissions. I wasn’t really even that interested in it anymore.

I didn’t get the job at the place I missed the interview for. Or anywhere else looking for someone with my skills for a long time. They always chose someone else. A couple of times they chose my friends over me. The whole thing seemed arbitrary. Like they picked our names out of a hat. I had the same experience and education but they just skipped me over. Eventually, I got hired by a tiny firm but I couldn’t stop thinking about Martin’s advice.

The problem was I didn’t have any time to pursue new hobbies. My boss chose to let everyone in on his bad mood. It wasn’t shocking that his wife chose to cheat on him. I worked as hard as I could and I go passed up for promotions. They always chose someone else. When they finally did choose me for something it was to fire me. My friends on the corporate ladder started having less and less to say to me. They chose more “useful” connections. Even after I got a similar job at a different place. I chose to apply there. They chose to hire me.

One day I just lost it. I could help but wonder if I made _any_ of the right choices. If I had studied art, if I hadn’t dated her, if I studied more, if I had gone to the interview, if I had worn a different tie, if I sucked up to the boss, if I chose different friends,... If I could just do one thing differently my life would be totally different. So I quit my job. I tried to take back control of my life instead of being a mindless corporate drone.

I saw Martin again today. He came up to me looking so happy. He didn’t even ask how my life was going this time. All he did was tell me he’d heard I had had a string of bad luck and that I should tell his boyfriend, The Archivist. So now I’m here. Do you think all of this stuff is supernatural? That something spooky has chosen to make me miserable?”

Jon looks from Glenn to Martin and back. Martin looks at him smugly. All he’d done was tug this man down his web a few times and his whole life had unraveled. It was horrifying. It was brilliant. Glenn had asked a question.

“I’m not sure what you expect me to do, Mr. Blanc,” Jon says coolly. “It seems to me like you just have some regrets that you’re looking I’m sure you believe that some supernatural force is causing your misfortune but I certainly don’t see it.”

“So what? You’re the authority on all things spooky?” Glenn asks irritably. “Don’t you think it’s suspicious that nothing has gone my way since I was 19?”

“You don’t need to be rude, Glenn,” Martin warns.

“Fine,” he huffs.

“You like working with your hands, don’t you?” Martin asks and Glenn blinks. “Maybe get a job in a factory.”

“I don’t know,” Glenn sighs. “I have to get back to work now.”

“Thank you,” Jon says once they’re alone.

“Thank _you_ ” Martin replies. “I knew my minor adjustments to his life had turned out terribly but I never thought I would get to see the tapestry of it.”

“It’s a rather lovely tapestry.”

“Wait until he notices the pattern.”

“You’re _monsterious_ ,” Jon says, taking Martin’s hand and kissing it. “I love it.”


	26. The Archivist Gets Several Emails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has an email correspondence with Elias, mourns his fallen friends, and has a small fight with Martin.

Glenn Blanc’s nightmare is horrific in its complexity. Jon watches unmoving (he didn’t help the man in the waking world, he certainly wasn’t going to try here where he knows he can’t) as Blanc is dragged down step after step of Martin’s web. He looks to Jon in equal parts plea and fear while a great looming thing snips threads that make Blanc plummet onto another web with more spiders. Always he’s being pulled and he’s so unsure. Jon distantly feels bad for him. He understands being pulled in a direction he doesn’t want to go. He knows that helplessness but he’s found power and knowledge down the awful path he’s on. More importantly, he’s found Martin on this path. Jon is almost too busy pushing his guilt and pity behind his awe of Martin to note the lack of Jurgen Leitner in his dreams. It doesn’t surprise him that Leitner died, he was an old frail man who had angered each one of the Dread Powers.

Elias picks the one year anniversary of Tim and Sasha’s deaths to return from his trip to Mooreland House (the Eye tells him this but not why Elias was there) and the Archives is spun up with enough web that he won’t be coming down to bother Jon. Still, it means Jon can’t invite Martin into his archive to finally clear out their desks. The clean-up from Prentiss had taken care of most of what had been _on_ their desks but he’d been putting off dealing with their actual effects for too long.

He opens Sasha’s desk first. Inside is some allergy medication, a few spare computer parts, and several letters of resignation. Those are a surprise. He supposes it makes sense, going from research assistant to archival assistant was a lateral career move and Sasha had the intellect and skills to be far more than an assistant. What doesn’t make sense is the phrasing of some of them. Specifically the phrases, “why can’t I quit?” and “this is the nth time I’ve written this.” _Their contracts had tied them to the Institute._ Jon flinches at the knowledge that her and Tim’s deaths had been so unwittingly his fault. His and Elias’. He couldn’t wait for Martin to trap Elias in a web. Leave his scared and struggling until he suffocated like Carlos Vittery. Jon throws away everything from Sasha’s desk with the exception of a few polaroids.

Jon regrets not going through Tim’s desk sooner. He has piles of research on the Circus. A few inaccuracies but for the most part things that had taken _months_ for Jon to work through on his own was summed up on a sticky note in Tim’s desk. There’s also a picture of Tim and Danny. It will feel so good to bring the Circus down for them. He throws out the stale protein bars and candy from Tim’s desk but keeps all the research and the picture.

Once he’s cleared away Tim and Sasha’s things he returns to his desk in time for two emails from Elias to appear on his computer.

 **To:** Institute Staff

 **From:** Elias Bouchard

 **Subject:** Spider Infestation

Good Afternoon Staff,

As many of you are no doubt already aware there has been a large number of spider sightings in the week I have been gone. The Archives in particular is covered in far more than the Head Archivist can possibly handle on his own.

I have called an extermination company to deal with the issue over the weekend. They have asked me to pass along the following warnings:

Remove all open food items from the premises (this includes things in take-out boxes, pizza boxes, and other containers without a water/ air proof lid)  
No one is to be on the premises from 5 AM Saturday the 30th to 5 AM Monday the 1st to ensure any chemicals used in extermination have properly cleared away  
Please remove everything before leaving today  
This does not mean that the janitorial staff will have this evening off.

If you have further questions, my door is always open.

Elias Bouchard

Head of the Magnus Institute

Viglio Opperior Audio

**To:** Jonathan Sims

 **From:** Elias Bouchard

 **Subject:** Your Spider

Jon,

As it is abundantly clear you don’t have the self-preservation necessary to keep you away from The Spider this will be the last I say on the matter. I will ask you to stop bringing him on the premises as I do not appreciate the grotesque number of arachnids swarming my Institute. This is certainly not the best way to get over your arachnophobia and if this is some petty attempt to get back at me for an imagined slight I would prefer you to just be upfront.

I say all of this assuming that some part of you still has control and you haven’t become a puppet for the Spider.

To the Spider: I am certain you have your own machinations for my Archivist but I would like to remind you that the Unknowing is coming up and neither of us wants the Stranger to succeed in remaking the world. Rest assured I do not intend to harm the Archivist and I am concerned that you may be stunting his growth if you would like to discuss it.

I look forward to hearing from whichever one of you is in control,

Elias Bouchard

Head of the Magnus Institute

Viglio Opperior Audio

Jon rolls his eyes at both emails and responds.

**To:** Elias Bouchard

 **From:** Jonathan Sims

 **Subject:** My Spider

Hello Elias,

So good to have you back from the Lukas’ but I’m sure you enjoyed their company. In regards to my bringing my boyfriend into my Archive for lunch, I can assure you it hasn’t been affecting my work. In fact, he’s been helping me focus more on my “growth.” I will speak with him about spiders appearing outside of my Archive.

I do have a minor point of curiosity for you: I believe Jurgen Leitner is dead. I don’t expect you to tell me how but he did have a book the last time I saw him that he used to re-arrange the tunnels under my Archive. I’m hoping to obtain it in order to properly map them at some point. If you have an idea of its whereabouts I would appreciate a clue.

I’m taking the rest of the day off today as it is the anniversary of Tim and Sasha’s untimely demise. The spiders will be out before the end of the night.

Sincerely,

Jonathan Sims

Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute

Viglio Opperior Audio

Jon then powers down his computer, packs his things, and heads home. If Elias responds he’ll see it on his phone and he knows the tube will be mostly empty at this exact moment.

As soon as Jon gets home he takes out the pictures from Tim and Sasha’s desks.

“Martin, come look,” he calls from the kitchen table. “I want you to meet someone.”

“Alright,” Martin replies questioningly. “Who am I meeting?”

“Tim and Sasha,” Jon replies and Martin raises his eyebrow. “Well, their pictures anyway. “

“Oh.. they seem…”

“If the world was kinder, then I would have introduced you by now,” Jon explains sheepishly. “Tim would have promised to tell you embarrassing stories about me if you got him drunk enough before just telling you about the time someone was _convinced_ I was their nephew and spoke to me for a good fifteen minutes because I didn’t have the heart to correct them. Sasha would have already followed you across all social media and would try to talk to you about some Facebook fan page you liked a decade ago.”

“I don’t think they would have appreciated me helping you become a monster,” Martin points out.

“I...try not to think about how they would feel about this. It makes me feel guilty.”

“Alright, then why are you bring up things that hurt you?” Martin asks and he sounds….annoyed.

“I-I just miss them,” Jon replies. “I’m allowed to feel guilty about their deaths.”

“But you don’t have to. You made an unwitting choice and so did they,” Martin replies. “What’s done is done.”

“Martin, just because I’m sad doesn’t mean I regret...This isn’t about you.”

“I know it isn’t,” Martin snaps. “I’m not trying to make it about me.”

“I didn’t mean it like…” Jon begins. “Look, I’m glad I chose you over dying. I’m glad the Eye led me to your door. I just wish there was someone around to tell how I feel about you besides _fucking_ Elias.”

Martin opens his mouth to say something, closes it, and huffs.

“You have every right to mourn them,” Martin sighs. “I’m sorry.” 

“What’s bothering you?” Jon asks gently as he takes Martin’s hand.

“It’s fine, really,” Martin insists. “Tell me more about your friends.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Did the Eye tell you that?”

“Did it have to?”

“Fine,” Martin huffs. “I’m jealous of people who died before I met you. Satisfied?”

“Good lord, Martin. Do you think anyone compares to you?” Jon replies suddenly feeling giddy. “The way I feel about you, My Martin...Love, I…”

“I didn’t say it was rational jealousy,” Martin mutters.


	27. The Archivist and the Spider Stop the Unknowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon recruits some help in stopping the Unknowing with Martin's assistance, learns Leitner's ultimate fate, and destroys a perfectly good wax museum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> Unreality

In the days leading up to the Unknowing Martin is scared and clingy. He tries to convince Jon of safer ways to stop the dance but Jon has to know first hand what the Unknowing is like. He’s curious. Martin asks to see his research into the other rituals and Jon brings his notes home easily enough. It’s beautiful watching Martin make connections and drink the knowledge in. Jon wonders if the Web hadn’t just barely won out over the Eye. He notes that many of the rituals take place centuries apart and suddenly they all attempt a ritual within thirty years of each other. He also notes that Gertrude apparently stopped all of the recent rituals but they’re usually stopped by various avatars. Normally Jon would be annoyed by someone out thinking him but he’s far more interested in what that could mean. Especially for whatever Elias was planning.

“Do you think someone set them all up?” Jon asks.

“Maybe,” Martin replies. “That’s pretty Webby and I don’t know what the Web would gain. Depower the other entities when they fail but I don’t really see the point. The Web doesn’t seem to want a ritual. The messy chaos of the normal world feeds manipulation and paranoia perfectly.”

“Could it have something to do with Gertrude herself, then?”

“You know more about her than I do.”

“She did use the Web to...to tie herself to Agnes Montegue,” Jon says thoughtfully. “It helped her stop the Lightless Flame’s ritual.”

“That….sort of makes sense,” Martin replies. “It still doesn’t explain why they all took place so close together.”

“It could also be part of the problem of unreliable narrators and incomplete accounts in my archive. Take this Corruption ritual in America. Apparently, it wasn’t stopped by anything that the witness saw from a block away. One moment there was a flood of cockroaches pouring out of the windows of a tenement building and the next people were hauling out bodies.”

“No one saw anything?”

“It was 1902, there aren’t exactly great records from the time. It’s not the only one that seemed to collapse at its height, though.”

“Maybe they just collapse on their own,” Martin jokes. Jon files the thought away for later.

Even knowing the lethality of it, more members of Jared’s gym than Jon expects to agree to come with him to Yarmouth. Although he suspects Martin has something to do with a few of them choosing to go he doesn’t mention it. As long as they follow his instructions and place the explosives correctly he doesn’t care about how much of a choice any of them actually have.

The real problem is cramming eight “bodybuilders” into a rented van. Jon had insisted they use Institute funds to pay for it and Martin didn’t object. One of the few left with eyes and a mouth, Kenneth, was good about stacking his friends in a way that fit. The Eye didn’t need to tell him that they wouldn’t be comfortable on the drive to Yarmouth with all the extra limbs. He’s tempted to _ask_ about their bodies but with the Unknowing on the horizon, he’d rather not have a repeat of the incident with his rib.

Kenneth reminded Jon a bit of Tim with extra arms and an additional leg joint. They both had a friendly demeanor and they both played sports in school. Unlike Tim, Kenneth only spoke a few times to him before stopping and walking away with a look of confusion on his face. Martin would lean slightly more on Jon whenever he did like he was trying to make it obvious he was being jealous. Jon was a little annoyed about it but he didn’t really care. Kenneth was likely to die soon and even if he lived Jon had no intention of speaking with him again. Besides, after Elias was dealt with he was thinking of just keeping Martin in his Archives with him. _He_ didn’t particularly like when someone else had Martin’s attention either.

Before going into the wax museum Martin kisses Jon. It’s not the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last but it is the first time since he rescued Martin from Daisy that he’s felt a tug. Martin attaches a thousand strings to every part of him while their lips slide together all dragging him down the same path: _come back to me._

“I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Jon says fondly, breaking the kiss.

“No, you don’t,” Martin replies firmly and Jon kisses him again.

“I was thinking of taking the month off from the Institute after this,” Jon says when the kiss breaks again.

“What about statements?” Martin asks. Jon hadn’t thought of it. Written statements at home had become the weekend routine but to go that long without a live statement would at the very least turn him into a grouch. He didn’t need to take live statements inside the Institute but he wasn’t eager to repeat what had happened with the nurse. Martin’s monstrosity was so much easier to bare than his own. Even the random torment people suffered at the hands of other Dread Powers was something he could detach himself from. His own was something else and he couldn’t shove off the suffering he caused. The others in his dreams had brought their statements to him willingly but that nurse hadn’t and she _hated_ him.

“Let me worry about it,” he replies. “I’ll see you on the other side of the Unknowing.”

The plan is this: Jon and the others set up the explosives, they leave to get a safe distance away (marked by Martin who Jon had to fight tooth and nail to stay out of danger), and Jon blows it all to Hell once the Eye is satisfied. What actually happens is he’s caught by the ringmaster while the others plant the explosives.

“Hello, Archivist!” It greets him. “Do you like my new skin? I had to get a new one after you burnt the gorilla.”

“Oh...um...hello Nikola,” Jon says startled. The thing is holding the skin of Jurgen Leitner. Jon feels a wave of pity for Leitner. He had been a selfish, arrogant, miserable man but Elias is the only person who Jon would damn to being skinned alive.

“I wanted to use _your_ skin but that Spider made it to be far too much trouble,” she laughs. Jon’s heart flutters. Martin was protecting him. “So glad you came to watch me dace the world new.”

“So you aren’t going to kill me?”

“That would hardly be sporting. You came all this way to be in the audience!”

Jon feels himself being lifted up by hands that are decidedly _not_ human. Breekon or Hope had somehow snuck behind him while Nikola was talking. Not that the Eye designed to tell him. They don’t take the detonator from him or ever restrain him. They just bring him to the main room and leave him until the dance starts.

When it does the world goes wrong. The Calliope music is...is that a calliope? Maybe it’s an organ. It doesn’t sound like a piano. There’s a chorus...or a soloist singing...or someone screaming. Whatever it is sounds bad to...whoever he is. He looks at his hands and they don’t look like his hands. He thinks. They’re usually darker….or lighter? He certainly should have fewer fingers. He can’t remember who he is or why he’s here.

“H-hello? Is anyone there?” a voice that comes from his lips but feels unfamiliar on his tongue asks.

“I’m someone,” an almost voice answers. He looks almost familiar. Maybe he knew who he was.

“I...Do I know you?” That’s definitely his voice. The practiced academic one. The voice of...what. Someone important. He was important.

“I’m Danny!” Danny Stoker says. The name is almost familiar. “I’m Tim’s brother.”

“Danny? Yes, Tim…” Tim was….he couldn’t picture Tim’s face. He was sad about Tim. Hadn’t Tim called him ‘boss’? Was that his name? He wanted to warn Tim about something. Or someone. It was...noodles? Some kind of disease? A person...in red. Who...worms. She had...she was after Tim. Danny should know, too. No, no that wasn’t right. Tim was dead and so was Danny. “No, you aren’t.”

“Of course I am, Jon.” The thing that isn’t Danny insists. “I want to help.”

“Jon?” He asks. That almost sounds like his name. It feels familiar enough to be his name. “Help? Help me...I need to get out...Get back to, to my…”

“Your Institute? Where my brother _died_ because of you?”

“What? The Corruption killed Tim. It wasn’t my…”

“It wasn’t your fault?” The thing asks in a new voice. “You let your assistants die. You once said so yourself.”

“ _Leinter?_ ” The man whose name is probably Jon asks. That’s whose speaking’s name. How does Jon know him? He was….there was a book. Was this man an author? No, that sounded wrong.

“Does my fate finally satisfy you, Archivist? Does being unmade to bring about the apocalypse finally atone for my sins? I had my regrets and you thoughtlessly pulled them out of me. Maybe if you took greater care-”

“ **Shut up!** ” The Archivist snaps. “ **Tell me who you really are.**

“I am Nikola Orsinov,” she responds as she quickly dances away from The Archivist in fear of being known. The Archivist ignores her in favor of the sharp tug pulling him to the exit. His feet move on their own as things dance away from him for fear of being known. He leaves through a door...window? Was it a gate? He leaves and the world still feels unfamiliar but _almost_. He has something in his pocket. Something he’s supposed to do with it. It’s a...keyboard? Remote? Detonation devise. He’s supposed to blow up the building once he’s out of it. His feet don’t stop once he’s pulled the trigger and things start to make sense. They only stop when he’s in his Martin’s familiar arms.


	28. The Archivist Tells the Spider a Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Martin decompress after the Unknowing and Jon tells Martin about Mr. Spider

The Unknowing had been disorienting even after he recognized himself as the Archivist and Jon needed things to be familiar. Familiar like the once dread-inducing pull of Martin’s web. Familiar like the smell of the body wash Martin had “borrowed” when he started living in Jon’s old flat and kept using because by the time Jon noticed he _liked_ the thought of Martin smelling like him. Familiar like the soft swell of Martin’s belly that belied solid muscle. Familiar like Martin’s dark eyes under a knitted brow because Jon is trying to engage every sensory process possible in basking in the familiarity of Martin with an upsetting fervor.

“Talk to me,” Jon nearly pleads while he draws familiar constellations on Martin’s arms, grateful that the August heat forced him to wear a t-shirt.

“About what?” Martin asks quietly.

“Anything,” Jon replies. “I just need to hear your voice.”

“My Jon, would you like a poem?” Martin teases fondly. “Beloved mine, I knew nothing of love/ til you looked at me with terrible gaze/ and asked my heart from my throat to your ears.”

“You never thought you’d get to write love poems,” Jon says before he realizes what he’s saying; The Eye returning to him after the Unknowing and gushing out of him. He stops himself before he can start talking about the gruesome death of the teacher who encouraged Martin’s poetry habit in the first place. “Sorry I…”

“I yanked you around earlier; it’s only fair you get to stick your nose around.”

“You saved my life,” Jon reminds him.

“For selfish reasons,” Martin replies. “I’m getting you all to myself for a whole _month_.”

“I did promise that, didn’t I?” Jon laughs fondly.

They wait by the van to see if any of the body-builders made it. Jon is disappointed to learn that none of them had. Not because he mourned for them but because he had wanted to take their statements for the Unknowing. The displaced confusion of the thing must have had an interesting effect on them. Oh well, maybe some outside observers had seen something interesting and would come in for a statement.

Martin rents them a hotel room for the night and Jon is tempted to stop him from using the shower if only to have the familiar scent of body wash linger on him a bit longer. He doesn’t. Only because the expensive toiletries the hotel provides means that they’ll be smelling like each other anyway. He does convince Martin to lie face down on the bed shirtless so he can give him a message. It’s the least he can do after all the stress Martin had been through from the week. Martin has four webby lumps down his back the Jon gives a wide berth while he works the excessively fancy lotion into Martin’s back, shoulders, and arms. While he works he takes stock of every inch of Martin’s skin. The birthmark on his left shoulder blade _the only physical feature he inherited from his mother_ , the scar on his right upper arm _bike accident when he was eleven, he had to take himself to A &E_, and the pale stretch marks along his sides (the Eye has nothing to say about them, thankfully). All beautiful parts of his Martin.

“Jon stop,” Martin says in a small, trembling voice. “Stop _looking_.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was…” Jon says, quickly shutting his eyes. “Sorry.”

Martin rolls over on the bed and pulls Jon down to kiss him on the nose.

“At least I know I have your full attention,” Martin whispers like he’s on the edge of crying.

“I-I just want to...I need to _know_ you,” Jon says while he pulls Martin to his chest. “Utterly. Everything about you. I want every secret bit of knowledge so I can hoard it all for myself.”

“All wrapped up in my web?” Martin teases. At least Jon assumes it’s teasing, he doubts either of their patrons would be fed that way.

“It would only be fair,” Jon sighs.

The following morning they drive back to London. Martin convinces him to listen to ABBA on the drive back and Jon can’t help but smile when Martin sings along. Jon even hams it up to sing Waterloo along with him.

Once they return to London Jon makes the mistake of bringing Martin with him to pick up statements for their vacation. He doesn’t think about it. Martin just follows him from the rental place to the Institute and Jon doesn’t say anything.

“Hello Martin,” Elias greets them as soon as he enters the building. “I wanted to be the first to congratulate you on a job well done with the Unknowing.”

“ _Martin_ was extremely helpful,” Jon replies. “I was intending to take a month off to celebrate the world not ending.”

“He’ll need to take statements,” Elias warns Martin as if Jon isn’t there. “I don’t think I need to tell you what might happen if he was deprived.”

“Will you stop acting like Martin is just puppeteering me around?” Jon snaps.

“Apologies,” Elias says quickly, looking again at Martin with nervousness. “I believe I told you in that email I wouldn’t pursue the matter further. Do ask my Archivist about his first Leitner, won’t you? Assuming you haven’t cobwebbed up that memory.”

“Speaking of emails,” Jon replies. “The Circus took Leitner for the Unknowing. I assume they took whatever books he had with him as well, so I’ll have to find another way to catalog the tunnels. We’re going into my Archives to get a few written statements, goodbye.”

Martin sits thoughtfully in Jon’s office while Jon picks out a handful of statements. He tries to pick a variety of statements from the Fourteen in an attempt to keep a balanced diet. Smirke would be proud. Eventually, he has a neat pack of files in a box for Martin to bring back to the flat with them.

“Jon,” Martin says before they go. “I do want to ask…”

“About my first Leitner?” Jon offers. “I...I suppose it’s something I should have told you some time ago.”

Usually, when Martin listens to Jon record statements he has a sort of amused face _especially_ with Web statements. Once Jon finishes recounting his encounter with _A Guest for Mr. Spider_ Martin looks upset.

“For the longest time I blamed myself for his death,” Jon says quietly. “I...I felt so guilty but...Do you remember what you told me about choices? How sometimes they’re awful and we don’t always have all the information but they’re still our choices. _He_ chose to despise me for no real reason. Even though he didn’t know what would happen when he stole that book from me it was still his choice.”

“But it almost got _you,_ ” Martin protests. “No wonder you’re afraid of spiders.”

“I suppose Elias wanted me to tell that story to remind me that I should be afraid of you. He’s _convinced_ you’ve been in total control of me for a while now.”

“I spent so much of my life trying to manipulate people into _liking_ me. It wouldn’t count if I used the Web to force you,” Martin agrees. “Besides, the path you’ve chosen means you might _know_ eventually.”

“Don’t worry,” Jon responds, pressing his forehead to Martin’s. “I’m certain I love you all on my own.”


	29. The Archivist and the Spider Take Some Time Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin helps Jon harass a random person in a cafe, Jon helps Martin force terrible choices on people, and Jon's dreams change.

Jon makes it into the better part of a week and a half before he starts to feel on edge from the lack of live statements. At first, he thinks it’s some kind of cold. He has headaches, he’s fatigued, and he has trouble focusing all the time. It comes to a head while he and Martin are sitting in a cafe. Martin is telling him about either a show or a book and all Jon can focus on is the woman a few tables away who has had an encounter with the Buried. He’s curious about what happened to her. Was it that Green follow? Did she get trapped in the tube like Gorka?

“Jon,” Martin says, tapping his foot to get his attention. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, uh,” Jon replies. “That woman over there. She...has a statement.”

“Ah,” Martin nods. “You could use one. You’re looking a bit rough.”

Jon doesn’t expect Martin to talk him out of it. In fact, he knew Martin would be all for it and all Jon would need to do is ask to be talked _into_ it. Ultimately it would be his choice but Martin would make it easier for him.

“I hate to interrupt our date,” Jon says. “But would you mind tugging that woman over here?”

“Not at all, love,” Martin smiles. “Glad to see you properly indulging yourself.”

Jon feels his face heat up slightly there was a time when he would feel ashamed for bending at a bit of encouragement. Now it didn’t matter. Especially not when it made it to easy on him to “serve his god.” The woman looks confused when she sits down at their table.

“Sorry I…” She begins but Jon waves his hand dismissively.

“It’s all right,” he says. “ **Tell me what happened.** ”

She does. Jon feels her terror at being dragged down by a cold, dead hand in a collapsed tunnel. The looming, compressing fear of the Buried is mixed with anxious, exposed fear of the Eye near the end. She looks at him with some combination of confusion, fear, and anger when she finishes. 

“Thank you,” Jon says. He feels so much better now. Things are in clearer focus and the beginnings of a headache that had been pressing behind his eyes over the past few days has cleared up.

“You should probably go home,” Martin says to the woman gently. “You don’t look well.”

“Maybe I should...yeah,” she responds in a daze as she gets up and walks out.

“Feel better?” Martin asks.

“Much, thank you” Jon replies and takes a sip of his tea. “Terrible, actually. My tea is cold.”

“Oh, heaven forbid,” Martin laughs. “Mine is, too. I’ll get us more.”

Jon sits in quiet amusement as Martin skips the line to get them fresh drinks. Several people who look like they had been in a hurry now stand back mildly confused at the sudden inconvenience. Jon quietly takes stock of himself to find that the aches he hadn’t even really noticed are gone, too.

He convinces Martin to walk with him while they enjoy their new drinks with his newfound energy. He prompts Martin into talking more about the television show and Jon listens to him explain how the show had sloppily tied up narrative threads or abandoned them altogether.

“Sometimes,” Martins says emphatically. “I just want to reach into the heads of producers and _make_ them give a show a satisfying ending!”

“Why don’t you?”

“Honestly it’s because they screw themselves more often than not. It would almost be going against my patron to force them to make intelligent choices.”

“Good lord,” Jon laughs. “Can’t have that.”

Over the next month, they go people-watching often. Sometimes Jon will tell Martin some awful truth about the person. Sometimes Martin will tell him about the threads connecting that person to others, tugging them this way and that. More often than not they’ll combine their knowledge. Apparently, Jon’s _knowing_ allows Martin to spin more nuanced webs although it will take some time before his efforts come to fruition.

“That man thinks he’s that child’s father but he isn’t,” Jon whispers to Martin while sitting on a park bench.

“That woman is thinking of telling her child that their dad isn’t their father,” Martin replies, pointing to the same family. Jon focuses on the trio for a moment and the Eye helpfully gives him more information.

“They believe their father is their uncle,” Jon whispers back. “It would be a shame for the poor man to find out his wife slept with his brother.”

“Might send them all down some pretty awful paths,” Martin replies, likely already spinning his web.

“Terrifying, too, one should think,” Jon replies. “One small choice ruining at least four lives. Shame really.”

Jon finally has time to pamper Martin all he wants and Jon finds himself thinking about Jude Perry. She had chosen her god partially out of an infatuation with Agnes Montegue. Jon had been chosen by his god because Elias pushed him into it, but he didn’t choose the Eye back until he met Martin. More accurately he didn’t choose the Eye until he chose Martin and Martin chose him _back_. Jude was chosen back by the Desolation but never by Agnes. He almost pities her. Except she seemed happy to be embraced by her god alone. Jon couldn’t imagine the affection of the Eye as being _enough_. Its very nature was to be constantly hungry for knowledge and when he was alone with it he was miserable.

Jon’s month off with Martin is the happiest he’s ever been. Long walks, getting Martin to open up his secrets to Jon, and fascinating nightmares. Each of his victims’ nightmares would change slightly. Jon assumes it’s to keep the fear fresh. The one that changes the most is the nightmare of Officer Hussain. Once, it had been all burning skin and spider husks often Daisy would feature but now it was Basira with the wild lupine eyes.


	30. The Spider Takes a Trip Alone and the Archivist Spends Time in His Archive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Web ~~makes~~ asks Martin to do some things for it, Elias continues to be Elias, and Jon investigates some stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW  
> Patricide  
> Alcoholism  
> Implied Drunk Driving

The Web seems to be more direct when it wants something from its avatars than the Eye. Martin points out that he has _less_ of an idea of what the Web wants him to do while he goes off alone than Jon has ever had with the general curiosity and hunger from the Eye, but Jon still thinks it would be nice to be told “go here on these dates” instead of “figure it out.” Patron envy aside, Jon isn’t particularly happy about not being able to contact Martin while he goes to Kent and he doubts he’ll be able to _know_ much of what Martin gets up to while he’s there. Still, absence makes the heart grow fonder and Martin doesn’t exactly have a choice so he promises to call Jon as soon as he can and Jon promises to keep his more self-destructive cravings for knowledge under control until Martin gets back.

It feels nice to be back in his Archive. The shelves are still a mess and that’s annoying but nothing has changed. The creeping feeling of being watched is in full force down here but it makes him feel like a cat in the sun instead of the looming paranoia it once had. He decides to look into what Martin had joked before the Unknowing: did rituals actually just collapse on their own?

As far as he can tell from Gertrude’s notes she personally stopped all of the rituals that occurred during her time as Archivist although there is an irritating lack of notes on both The Extinguished Sun and The Watcher’s Crown. He assumes that she either hid or destroyed whatever notes she had on the Watcher’s Crown but unless Elias stole only half of her research, Gertrude’s notes on The Extinguished Sun just suddenly stop.

He’s left with two choices: contact some member of The Church of the Divine Host and get a statement from them or break into Elias’s office and search for Gertrude’s notes. The former is dangerous enough to count as breaking his promise to Martin and the latter carries the added bonus of potentially annoying Elias. Of course, he knew well enough that Elias was possibly always watching him and would _know_ if Jon broke into his office. He would wait for a time when Elias was either distracted or far enough away to not stop him.

He spends the rest of the workday researching other rituals that seemingly collapsed with no outside intervention. If they were all destined to fail then Jon could just wait for the crown to collapse on Elias and kill him while he was weakened. Although it might mean getting Martin to help him defy the Eye again or, worst-case scenario, have Martin kill Elias after both Eye avatars were weakened.

Jon _knows_ when Elias leaves for the day. At 6:35 PM exactly Elias is out the door and Jon gives him a half hour to be far enough away before making his way to Elias’s unlocked office. Jon winces. Elias probably _knew_ he was coming. He decides to have a look around anyway but all he finds is Gertrude’s notes for the Unknowing, including the statements of a few more people who experienced the Circus of the Other. Well, that’s something for his trouble.

He decides to sleep on his cot in document storage instead of going home that night to an empty apartment. He whispers a good night to the cobwebs that wind their way around the legs of his cot and tries not to burn with curiosity or worry over Martin. The cot is uncomfortable and he spends most of the night worrying over Martin. The Eye helpfully informs him of the time Martin got sick on a school trip which neither eases nor worsens his concern. 

Elias has the audacity to come into his Archives the following morning. More aggravatingly, he’s in a good mood.

“Knock, knock,” he calls as he walks into Jon’s office.

“Was there something you needed, Elias?” Jon replies impatiently.

“I was hoping to speak with you while you’re more clear-headed,” Elias says pleasantly. “First of all, I wanted to tell you how well the role of Archivist suits you. I must admit when I first hired you I worried that you weren’t up to the task.”

Some old part of Jon wants to preen at the backhanded compliment. The part of him that liked to show off for his teachers growing up; the part of him that took the job of Archivist; always trying so hard to be the cleverest one. It isn’t a part of himself Jon has ever been proud of but he likes it when the praise he craves comes from Martin, so it’s not a totally useless part of himself.

“Thank you,” Jon says flatly. “Now, what do you want?”

“I wanted to remind you that while we both serve the Eye you are still my employee.”

“Time for my quarterly review, then?”

“Don’t be childish, Jon,” Elias warns. “You recall when you were given this position I asked you to record statements. Your….extra curricular outings with _Martin_ won’t count as they reflect poorly on the Institute.”

“I’ll see about going through some of the old statements in my spare time,” Jon sighs.

“This should take priority over whatever personal projects you have.”

“I suppose there’s a threat coming if I don’t? Maybe you’ll tell me how Martin killed his father?”

Jon blinks in surprise when he says it. He hadn’t meant to _know_ that. _Martin had come to his father not long after his mother killed herself. He found the man that chose to leave him with her was happy, successful, and had a wife and children he clearly wanted. It made him jealous and it wasn’t hard for him to tug on Mr. Blackwood’s weakness for alcohol. All it took was one late night at the pub and a decision to get behind the wheel bleary-eyed._ Realistically he should be horrified by what Martin does to people who deny him love but why should he be? Jon was the only one Martin wanted love from and Martin was the center of his universe. It’s not like Martin didn’t regularly kill people or ruin their lives anyway.

“No, the horror of that particular revelation won’t have much of an effect on you,” Elias admits. “I have been at this a very long time, however, and I can make your life very difficult if you fail to co-operate.”

“Fine,” Jon replies with an eye roll. “I’ll get one of those dusty old statements right now.”

“Wonderful, it’s good to have you back, Jon,” Elias says cheerily.

Elias must _know_ that Martin isn’t in London. Otherwise why the hell would have come in and _threatened_ Jon? What’s really disconcerting is Elias’s use of the phrase “clear-headed.” Surely Elias is aware that Martin’s web doesn’t have a range limit. Unless he believes something is happening to cut Martin off from him.

The conversation with Elias leaves Jon uneasy about Martin for the rest of the day. He can’t tell if he _knows_ something is wrong or just thinks it is. It makes it difficult to focus on researching anything so Jon decides to leave work early.

He stands in the shower fighting with himself over just going to Kent and finding Martin. Martin said he’d be back by the end of the week but the Web didn’t care for Martin’s wellbeing any more than the Eye cared for his. An entire week might be too long for Jon to save him and if Basira came back from France she might be there.

The bathroom door bursts open and Jon feels himself being grabbed by freezing arms. He tries to struggle or shout but Martin shushes him. Martin smells like the nubbing fog of the Lonely and Jon grips him as tightly as he can before reaching out to shut off the water.

“J-Jon,” Martin chatters.

“Shhh,” Jon shushes him. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

“I love you, Jon, please,” Martin begs. The Lukases and Elias would pay for this.

“I love you. I love you so much,” Jon affirms as he carefully guides Martin out of their bathroom. “I’m sure you know that since you fought off the Lonely right into my arms. You’re _mine_.”

“Why’s the flat so fucking cold?” Martin mutters as he presses himself closer to Jon’s wet body.

“Probably because we’re both soaking wet.”

“Oh? Oh,” Martin says as he seemingly realizes what transpired in the past few minutes.

“Let’s get into something warmer.”

Jon tamps down his curiosity and hunger while he and Martin dress for bed.

“You want to know what happened, don’t you?” Martin asks once they’re settled.


	31. The Archivist Takes Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets more possessive of Martin, Elias finally "tells" Jon about the Watcher's Crown, and Jon and Martin finally deal with Elias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW  
> Murder  
> Spiders  
> Character Death  
> Blood

Jon cups Martin’s face and rubs his cold cheeks for a moment before asking, “ **What happened to you?** ”

“I was always a Lonely person, you know? Even after I chose the Web. Spiders don’t make great company. I could make people _want_ to be my friend or even believe they were but I always knew the truth. I don’t think you need the ego boost of me going into detail about you, Jon, but I will tell you that by the time we met I had sort of given up on the idea of close friendships or romance. I get on with some other avatars just fine, but you’re special.

You asked about the Lonely.

I got to where the Web wanted me at around noon the day I left. I don’t always know _why_ it has me do what to does but I followed it easily enough. I had one person pick up smoking again and had another apply for a job they weren’t sure of. Normal Web stuff. As I walked around I saw a happy couple on a date and I thought of you. Ok, I missed you. No big deal; I’m a grown man and I can be apart from my boyfriend for a few days.

It was pretty dark by the time I decided to find a place to turn in for the night. No one else was on the street and a bit of rain was falling. It was the comforting, melancholy rain that makes me feel particularly poetic and my mind drifted to you. I should have known something was wrong because all I could think was how it would feel if you left me. I imagined you looking at me with the same detached amusement that you look at you statement givers and my heart sank.

That’s when I met him. Dressed like a sea captain but far too pale for it. The Lonely coming off of him in _waves_.

“You must be Martin Blackwood,” he said in that sort of chipper tone people use when they absolutely do not want to be talking to someone else.

I wasn’t as intimidated as I should have been. I know that makes me a bloody hypocrite for telling you off but I didn’t proceed with the caution I ask of you. One moment I was sneering at someone who was no doubt a Lukas and the next I’m in a big foggy void.

My first thought was that _Elias_ did this to separate us. As if he could take you away from me. I walked aimlessly for what felt like hours and I started to panic. What if Elias had done something to you with me out of the way? What if you were gone forever? It felt like days passed and I was certain you should have come to rescue me if you were still alive. I-I tried to find you because I _knew_ I would if you were still out there. I thought of the time you convinced me to let you bathe me. D’you remember? You washed and conditioned my hair. You made me feel precious and you _sang_ to me. I focused so hard I thought I heard your voice.

It was your voice. You were doing that thing you do when you get excited thinking about a topic so you start whispering to yourself. Then I saw you and I just grabbed you as tightly as possible.”

“Oh Martin,” Jon says softly as soon as the statement ends. It’s satisfying and Jon feels immensely guilty for making Martin relive it and for _enjoying_ it. Martin wipes a tear off of Jon’s cheek.

“Did I give you indigestion?” Martin huffs and curls closer to Jon.

“Yes, the overtones of ‘my literal reason for living is suffering’ really spoil the meal for me,” Jon deadpans back. Then, on impulse, he pulls Martin as tightly as he can against him. “I’ll kill him. I-I’ve put this off for too long. Elias tried to hurt you and for that, I’m going to end him.”

“You have such a way with words,” Martin sighs. “We can go right now.”

Jon can easily tell that Martin is in no way up to driving to Elias’s house to kill him.

“Tomorrow,” Jon insists. “You’re under-nourished, dehydrated, there’s a blister on your right foot, you’re exhausted, and you have acute hypothermia. You can choose to sleep before you eat but you _are_ going to drink something.”

“This is what I get for taking all your kindness for myself, nosey,” Martin huffs.

“Oh yes, the great burden of my worry. You poor dear.”

Once he’s warmed up Martin is still awake enough to let Jon take him into the kitchen for something to eat and drink. Jon probably should have gone and gotten something for Martin in bed but he wasn’t taking his eyes off of him. Not for one moment. Not even in their own flat. Not after Elias tried to sick Peter Lukas on him.

“How do your spiders feel about the tunnels under the Institute?” Jon asks while Martin eats the re-heated takeaway.

“I think they would love to lay in wait for Elias to come down into your Archive,” Martin says between bites.

“I had a different plan but you won’t like it.”

“Can you _guarantee_ your safety?”

“If it all goes according to plan, yes.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll need my spider in shining armor.”

Martin, despite his exhaustion, helps Jon work out a solid plan to deal with Elias once and for all. They agree to leave backups totally at Martin’s discretion. The less they talk about things the better and Jon has total faith that Martin wouldn’t let anything go wrong. His Martin, so intricate in his planning.

The following morning is a struggle to get out the door. Jon genuinely can’t bear to turn his gaze away and is clingier than Martin was before the Unknowing. Impulsively, he presses Martin against a wall to kiss him and leaves an obnoxiously large hickey on Martin’s throat. He knows he’ll feel embarrassed about it later because people will _assume_ things about himself and Martin but right now he wants people and avatars to see that Martin is _his_.

“Do you want Elias to think you pulled me out of the Lonely with your teeth?” Martin huffs, gently tugging Jon’s hair so he’ll pull away from his throat.

“Sorry,” Jon replies sheepishly looking up at his blushing Martin. “I got a bit carried away.”

“Are you really?” Martin asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No.”

Jon spends the rest of the day in apprehension. He spends the day re-organizing his archive as Elias asked. It doesn’t take long for him to realize how draining it is. Even in a stronghold of the Eye, he feels weak from only recording written statements. Was this Elias’ plan? To make him starved and weak and lonely again without Martin so he’d be a willing sacrifice for the Watcher’s Crown?

He waits until late in the day to go to Elias’ office. The fewer people in the building the easier it would be to not get caught. At least that’s what Jon had reasoned but Martin had gone along with it.

“Elias, can I speak with you?” Jon says as he walks into Elias’ office. Rosie left about five minutes ago.

“Of course Jon,” Elias says pleasantly expression carefully schooled. “Did your boyfriend make it back from his trip alright?”

“Yes, it was a bit of a surprise to have him back so soon but I’m always happy to see him. He gets so Lonely without me.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re glad to have him back. Was there something you wanted?”

“I-I wanted to ask you about the Watcher’s Crown. I serve the Eye as much as you do and I have a right to know how you plan to bring our patron into our world.”

“Hmm. Alright. How familiar are you with Jonah Magnus’ attempt in the late 19th century?”

Jon blinks in surprise. He hadn’t expected a straight answer. The plan had been to distract Elias with a fight but now information Jon had been looking for we being offered apparently freely. Jon knows it’s likely too good to be true but all he has to do is stall while Martin brings his spiders up from the tunnels to fill the drywall and flood Elias’ office. There’s no way Jon wouldn’t have a panic attack at the sight of so many spiders but Martin would be there for him. He shakes his head.

“I didn’t think so,” Elias continues. “Jonah Magnus was a student and intimate friend of Robert Smirke. As you are no doubt aware by this point, nearly all of Robert’s students were drawn to one power or another and Jonah was no exception; but unlike his peers, he kept his alignment to the Eye a secret from Smirke for many years. Long enough that he convinced Smirke to design and build Millbank Prison with its panopticon. All Jonah had to do was tweak the design here or there to put it off balance in favor of the Eye. It wasn’t difficult, the very concept of a panopticon is designed to feed the fear of being watched and that’s all the prisoners had to do, Jon. They just had to fear their watcher as Jonah drank all their terror in.”

“What stopped it?”

It’s this moment that Martin chooses to set his spiders out on to Elias, who screams in shock and flails to get them off of him. There are far too many spiders to count _14,352_ and Jon begins to shrink into himself. He’s certain none are on him but he feels their skittering legs on him, anyway. He thrashes and laughs when he realizes what he’s doing until strong arms encircle him.

“Jon, easy,” Martin says, burying Jon’s face in his chest. “Oh, I see what you meant about spoiling the fear.”

Jon takes a few moments of breathing in the smell of his and Martin’s laundry soap and listening to Elias’ increasingly muffled cries to still himself enough to let go. He takes a few moments after that to actually let go. Elias is reduced to a squirming cocoon of web and fear. Jon can taste the staleness of the End and it’s the sweetest fear he’s ever tasted. Some part of him wants to talk to Elias and gloat; a stronger part of him wants to pull knowledge out of him until he’s an empty broken husk before killing him. No, Elias wouldn’t be fed to the Eye in death. A statement would be too good for him.

Martin gently slides the knife into Jon’s hand and guides him to the cocoon. They had agreed long before the Unknowing that if the Eye tried to stop Jon Martin would “help” him like he had with Gerry’s page. Even without being able to see him, Elias tries desperately to press the kind of awful information that he thinks would stay Jon’s hand. _Tim’s dying thoughts were of his brother. Sasha lived for minutes while the worms ate her. Jon’s bully took days to die at the hands of Mr. Spider._

Jon never thought he was capable of killing anyone. Not even Elias. Until the moment Elias has the gall to parade suffering _he_ caused around in Jon’s head. At the moment he sinks the blade into the cocoon and it begins turning red Jon feels a terrible pain in his own chest. He tries to cry out but all that comes out of his mouth is blood that _burns_ its way out of him. Martin is yelling something but something wet is pouring out of Jon’s ears and muffling the sound. His eyes are burning and he blinks at tears that turn his vision burning red and then black.


	32. The Archivist Takes His Mantle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon dies (Martin doesn't take it well) and goes full avatar (Martin takes it very well).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW  
> Character "death"  
> Zombies  
> Body Horror  
> Ants  
> Spiders  
> Cannibalism  
> Plotting murder  
> Implied corpse mutilation  
> Consensual loss of bodily autonomy  
> Consensual loss of mental privacy

Jon is in a familiar place. Standing watch over Noami Hern in her Lonely grave. She’s terrified even now; even after spending so long in Jon’s nightmare museum. Even after Jon stopped trying to dig her out. He walks away and as he walks the scene changes to Dr. Elliot’s tutorial. He stands by a cadaver that is _almost_ human and tries desperately to ignore it but he can’t keep his focus on Jon. Not while’s he’s forgotten how his own body works; joints turning wrong and bones bending at the wrong place. His Stranger-Fear bleeds into Melanie King’s. She tried, for a time, to attack him. It wasn’t long after he stopped trying to help. Now she watches the thing pretending to be Sarah Baldwin slowly change its skin. Its new skin looks _almost_ like Melanie and the Slaughter comes in just when Melanie least expects it. Violence on the thing that is almost her and violence on her. Jon can taste her blood-terror.

Next was once Helen Richardson’s nightmare and Jon almost expects the door leading him out of the abandoned hospital to be yellow. Instead, it’s a pub door. Inside is Martin as a spider, his black eyes shining as he puppets Marcus Wilson around as he loses everyone he loves in a pub of marionettes. Marcus still looked at Jon with pleading eyes; perhaps because there was nothing else he _could_ do with a thousand strands of web yanking his joints along. Intellectually, Jon knows that this dream Martin has no connection to the real Martin but he still lingers near him for a moment.

Jon winces when the scene shifts to Jordan Kennedy. The man covered in ants and screaming as they pour over of him blinks open his eyes enough for Jon to see the fear there. Not of the ants but of him for watching. Tessa Winters is afraid of him, too. More so than the computer screen that she types on as the edges cut her when she tries to think. She looked at him spitefully once but now it was only fear.

Karolina Gorka’s train car is different to him than it once was. She is peaceful in the crushing mass of dirt and metal. He wonders if soon he won’t dream of her at all and he feels almost sentimental about her crushing fear of the Buried. Martin’s statement is meant to be next but there are only cobwebs that way. He had wondered if he would dream of Martin’s new statement and was deeply grateful when he didn’t last night.

Neither dream Martin nor real Martin appears in Jennifer Walker’s nightmare. Jon _hates_ her nightmare. The door to her flat is webby too, but it opens easily for him. She sits inside trying to remain as still as possible so as not to agitate the webs surrounding her. Inevitably a spider lands on her and she twitches or she’ll sneeze and suddenly all the spiders in her flat descend on her in a wave that makes Jon _wish_ he could look away. Still, it’s her fear he focuses on but it’s her fear that feeds the Eye. It’s her fear that fed Martin, too.

The way out of the flat leads to an A&E full of corpses. All fresh. Some with visible wounds and some without but at the center stands the nurse. She looks at Jon and she’s just _tired_. She’s afraid, too, but she’s lost the energy to hate him. Not when there are dead patients reaching for her. Next is the strange joint dream of Trevor and Julia. Jon supposes a pack that fears together hunts together. Strangely their dream bleeds into Basira’s. She still looks at him with intent most of his other victims have given up on.

Jon had asked for Brenda Smith’s dream. He remembers back when he still wanted to mitigate suffering. When he saw his monstrousness as something separate from himself and so he asked Martin to spare her life. Her fear is the most familiar. Watching someone else be pulled into a spider’s web while being unable to do something has been an on-and-off nightmare of his for two decades but her husband had fed Martin, not Mr. Spider.

The dreams continue on through the statement givers drawn by the adverts and then the ones Martin had brought to him on dates. All of them fascinatingly and wonderfully afraid. Until Jon looks up to meet the unblinking gaze of his god boring into him. He feels it reaching into and through him for all knowledge, all secrets, all fear and he reaches for it as he falls into its pupil.

Jonathan Sims had been technically dead for 2 hours and 43 minutes. As he gasps awake all he can see is white and he can’t move. Martin makes a soft, broken noise and very quickly Jon _knows_. Martin, still fresh from the Lonely, had assumed Jon _hadn’t_ chosen him over death. His acceptance of solitude was drained away after spending the better part of a year with Jon and all he wanted to do now was die wrapped as tightly to Jon as possible. Jon assumes he would have changed his mind at some point after he stopped shaking with sobs.

“Martin,” Jon says. “I...I’m so sorry. I didn’t...This wasn’t supposed to happen. You...sweetheart it’s alright. I know I took so long coming back to you but...but I’m here now.”

The webbing loosens up enough that Jon can properly wrap his arms around Martin. The shift makes Jon aware that momentary death had cost him control of both his bladder and his bowels.

“Jon,” Martin rasps. His voice is pretty destroyed from his earlier distress.

“Easy,” Jonn reassures him. _Martin is aware that Jon is in his head and that should annoy him but what secrets does he have to keep from Jon? If he didn’t run away screaming after the business with that creep from the bar Martin doubted anything would phase him. Besides, it was only fair to let Jon in his head because Jon was in his web._

Jon notices this when the physical web drops away and he finds he still can’t move very far away from Martin. Held there by webs he can’t see.

“Sweetheart, we-we need to get cleaned up, alright?” Jon asks carefully. “There’s a shower in my archive we can use. I don’t think they’d let us on the tube looking like this.”

 _Martin thinks it’s a good idea to clean up but he’s not letting Jon down._ Jon uses his restricted movement to position himself into a fireman’s carry for Martin. _Martin catches Jon’s intent and lifts him easily. Maybe having Jon eying his thoughts had an advantage. Jon blushes slightly in a way that makes Martin’s heart flutter. Which is information that smug bastard just had now._ Jon presses a quick kiss to Martin’s cheek. _Of course he would do that. How could Martin have doubted Jon’s love for him?_

“I’m sorry. I...I should have expected repercussion for killing Elias. I would have warned you if I had known.”

_Jon is a terrible liar. It’s how Martin knows he’s telling the truth now because he’s certain Jon wouldn’t have told him if he had known. He still felt guilty when Martin got upset, after all._

_”Hey,”_ Jon protests. “I’m not a terrible liar.”

Martin rolls his eyes and Jon is happy to see Martin in a better mood. Although not a nice enough mood to let Jon go. _Martin was uneasy about setting Jon down. It’s not like he would leave but the terror of losing Jon, of being unable to protect the one kindness he’d ever known, was still so fresh and acute._

“Martin,” Jon says slowly. “Do you know where we are? We’re in my archives. I am the Archivist and my dearest love has set his web over and around me. Nothing will hurt me here.”

 _Jon’s certainty is extremely attractive, even if he is covered in his own blood and shit. Jon knew that now._ Jon laughs a little. Martin makes an annoyed noise in lieu of telling Jon off to save his voice and gently sets Jon down in the shower. Jon left some of his toiletries there from when he had nothing to go home to. _Martin runs a washcloth under hot water and wipes the blood off of Jon’s face. He’ll never forget watching it pour out of him or the awful gurgling he made. Nothing was going to take Jon from him like that._

Jon needs more time to get clean than Martin and for practicality’s sake he almost asks Martin to go to document storage to get him a change of clothes before remembering the gentle tug every time he got too far from Martin. _Martin considers the state of Jon’s clothes. He could just wrap him up in web and force people to ignore the bundle. He doubts Jon would struggle as long as he knew what was happening._

“I have spare clothes in document storage,” Jon tells him. “We can grab them once I’m done here.”

_Martin is slightly glad of this. If only for the soreness in his muscles that would make it difficult to carry Jon all the way home. Even with his four backups. Instead, he considers what to do about the Insitute. Jon belonged there and it was a wonderful trap for statement givers but it was too full of other people who could pose a threat. He could just hollow a few out and fire the rest. Elias’ corpse with still in his office as far as Martin was aware and it would dance for him if need be._

“If you wanted to handle all of the donations all we would really need is a receptionist,” Jon replies. _Martin was under the impression that Jon liked the woman who worked reception but he supposes he could fire her with Elias’ corpse and replace her with some else._ “Elias was good about hiring people who wouldn’t be missed. I’d rather avoid the work of finding someone else forgettable if we can help it.”

_Something about Jon’s callousness with others always enthralled Martin. That Jon would in one moment soothe him with words and actions and the next speak about others with such detachment was confirmation that Martin mattered to him most of all._

“Because you do,” Jon says as he shuts off the water. Martin quickly pulls on his own soiled clothes and Jon finds his arm slinging itself around Martin’s waist. _Just because carrying him was impractical did mean Martin was letting him be any farther than strictly necessary. In fact, he’ll just control Jon’s speed so they don’t drift apart._ Jon doesn’t protest himself being tugged at Martin’s pace. Poor thing must be exhausted for shaking with sobs for nearly three hours. As much as Jon would like to stay and investigate Elias’ office he knows Martin needs rest. Maybe a meal of the cannibal kind would help his voice.

_Martin keeps everyone at a distance on the way to the tube station and at the station itself. Pulling all their threads is exhausting. When he isn’t looking and someone comes in the car he had cleared out for Jon and himself has the audacity to sit next to his Jon Martin decides to make that person a meal. Briefly, he wonders if Jon would be uncomfortable. The last time he had eaten in front of Jon he had specifically picked an asshole to possibly make it easier._ Jon leans into Martin and nods his head ever so slightly so Martin knows to move the person to Martin’s other side.

Martin keeps Jon and his intended victim moving at a slow pace to their building. Jon watches as the person sweats and struggles to break Martin’s hold with fascination. The paranoia of the web feels so strange while Jon is also bound up. _Martin realizes as the three of them make their way into the flat that the only reasonable place to eat would be the bathroom._

“Just put your dinner in the tub and I’ll sit on the toilet,” Jon assures him. In any other context, the sentence would sound unsanitary at best but Jon doesn’t feel the need to explain himself to someone who would be dead soon anyway. Still, he addresses the victim.

“Yes,” Jon says as Martin position everyone just so. “ _You_ are dinner. You sat next to me on the tube and my sweet spider gets terribly jealous.”

 _The victim’s fears spikes at Jon’s words and Martin feels fed by it.; and his stomach does a flip at Jon’s possessiveness. The hand making his web go slack to run through his curls doesn’t do anything to help. Jon will be a good boyfriend and not use this information to his advantage._ Jon makes no promises. _He still expects Jon’s fear when he shifts into his true form but notes a distinct lack of it as he stretches out his spare arms and blinks his extra eyes open. Although perhaps it’s because Jon’s happily drinking in the fear unfolding before him._

Jon sits entranced while Martin eats. I hadn’t occurred to him to ask about this type of feeding from Martin’s perspective before but now that Martin’s mind was on display for him he didn’t even need to ask. _Martin is self-conscious about how messy it is._ Perhaps it’s for the best that Jon doesn’t know until now.

“You’re doing so well, Martin,” Jon says gently. _Thank god that Martin didn’t react to praise the way Jon did or he’d have meaty human pudding coming out of his nose. Truth be told Martin’s throat had healed up while his victim was still alive enough to squirm but he eats his fill before he speaks._

“I suppose you’re properly pledged to the Eye now,” he says casually to Jon. _He wonders if the Eye took Jon through his nightmare museum before fulling embracing him or if he just took so bloody long to come back to him because the Eye was eating Martin’s suffering._

“If I had known you were alone and afraid I would have run through the museum,” Jon replies to Martin’s thoughts. “Let me clean you up and we can go to bed.”

It’s Jon’s turn to wipe a warm washcloth over Martin’s face. _His hand doesn’t need to be in his hair but Martin can’t expect Jon not to immediately utilize new information._ Martin’s hair is still damp from the earlier shower and Jon runs his hands through Martin’s hair. It’s absolutely necessary and not just because it makes Martin weak-kneed. _Martin will get him back by carrying him to bed._

Jon allows himself to be manipulated into bed so that Martin can press his head against his chest. _He won’t sleep unless he can hear Jon’s heartbeat._ Martin is asleep as soon as he settles but Jon isn’t tired and takes a very long time to drop off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I have to write in 3rd person semi-omniscient because Jon is powerful enough to just live in Martin's brain. Thanks, Jon.


	33. The Archivist and the Spider Share a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Web gives its Spider a dream knowing full well the Archivist _sees_ , Jon finds a very helpful notebook, and Martin is reasonably surprised by how comfortable Jon seems to be in his web.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW  
> Body horror  
> Consensual loss of bodily autonomy  
> Consensual loss of mental privacy

Martin could, apparently, maintain whatever compulsions he set on a person in his sleep. This is something Jon finds out in the early morning when he stirs to find a distinct lack of freedom of movement. He can move his arms and legs fine but any movement that might draw him away from Martin is impossible. Which means he can gently stroke Martin’s hair and _know_ his dreams but he can’t scoot away to watch him sleep.

_The Web doesn’t often give Martin dreams. Usually, it will just compel him. Place a thought in his head so he’d do something and only realize midway through that the thought wasn’t his. He knows other avatars got dreams from their gods. Jon and Oliver got dreams often enough. Hell, the Vast probably spent time in Mike’s dreams. Annabelle had her share of dreams; though her relationship with the Web was very different from his. Still, this dream wasn’t born in his mind._

_There is a tower in London. Or there was. Or there is a tower in what was London. Jon is there._ Jon is there. _He is there with a thousand eyes, rich brown irises and glowing green sclera, beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. He can feel Jon’s gaze boring into him. There is something in Jon’s hand._ There is something in Martin’s hand. _Martin finds himself lifting an object the looks identical to the one in Jon’s hands. It looks like a crown made of silky webs and searching eyes._ Jon finds himself placing the crown gently on Martin’s brow, careful to avoid his glassy black spider eyes. This is the most interaction he’s gotten in a dream, but then this dream isn’t from the Eye. _Martin follows Jon’s lead. It’s impossible to avoid Jon’s eyes but they blink easily out of his way. This fells **right.** Like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place._

Martin stirs and Jon almost doesn’t notice. His mind quietly racing over the Web catching him in Martin’s dream and showing them both _that_. He’s pulled from his own thoughts by Martin sighing heavily right against his ear. _Martin doesn’t understand what the Web wants from that dream. Maybe once the fog of sleep has lifted he can discuss it with Jon._

“One thing at a time my darling,” Jon replies. “Would you mind terribly letting me use the loo? I promise I won’t fall in.”

_Martin decides that as long as Jon is in their flat and in his control then it would be fine. Jon could go and then come back._ Jon huffs but his stomach flip-flops at the stream of consciousness reminder of how precious he is to Martin. _If Jon didn’t like the arrangement he was welcome to keep his eyes out of Martin’s head._ He’s actually very happy with the arrangement. Jon strangely feels safer like this. All bound up in Martin’s web while he read his thoughts felt _right_.

Jon wouldn’t normally sit on the counter but Martin had put him there while he made their breakfast and Jon was in no position to protest. _Martin was surprised that Jon didn’t say anything about being put on the counter. He just sat there staring at him with eyes glowing a faint green._

“Is it noticeable?” Jon asks.

“Only if someone stares into your eyes,” Martin responds. _Although Hunters might still be a concern if they look too closely._

“Perhaps a pair of sunglasses, then.”

Jon’s body found itself setting out plates while he focused all of his attention on Martin. _Jon was being surprisingly cooperative._

“I’d rather be allowed in your head,” Jon admits. “I know you won’t force me to do anything I wouldn’t want to do.”

_Martin considers putting Jon in joggers and a tee shirt for work._

“The height of betrayal, truly.”

The commute to the Institute is pleasant. Martin constantly positions Jon against walls or in corners. _It’s easier to see a threat coming that way. Martin would let Jon investigate a curiosity if he asked but this why he can’t be reckless or impulsive in pursuit of knowledge._ Jon impulsively kisses Martin’s hand.

“Learn something?” Martin huffs. _He loves this contrarian bastard._

“Yes, your hand is cold,” Jon replies and shoves Martin’s hand into his coat pocket.

“Did the Eye compel you to seek that information?”

“No, but I am curious. Is this everything you hoped for?” Jon asks while gesturing to the invisible webs that would let him farther than two feet from Martin and puppeteered most of his actions.

“I expected you to have more trouble with it, honestly. Last night was one thing. I was afraid and heartbroken and my voice was too shot to actually _say_ anything to you but now...It doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it? This is something you’ve wanted to be allowed to do since you saw me unconscious in Jared’s gym. At least that’s when you knew you wanted this for certain. There were other times the idle fantasy of tugging me away from my more self-destructive behaviors crossed your mind but after I had looked you in the eyes and _chose_ you over all my guilt you just...You couldn’t lose me,” Jon explains before pausing. _Martin is uncomfortable with having his emotions read out to him like this._ “Sorry, I...the point is, I know you won’t harm me, Martin.”

“I suppose it doesn’t hurt that you get to pry into whatever corners of me you want,” Martin replies. _It amusing really. The difference between the man who clung to him and begged to be made a monster and the man staring horrifically into his soul was staggering. The Jon still clinging to humanity wouldn’t be so relaxed like this and he certainly wouldn’t accept the theft of Martin’s privacy in exchange._

“That Jon lingered on the pain of anyone and everyone. He felt guilty over things he couldn’t help and it prevented him from _becoming_ ,” Jon says. “The monster I am now only hates _your_ pain, and I think this arrangement should help mitigate most of it.”

They arrive at the Institute before anyone else to deal with Elias’ body and go through his office. Jon can happily take his time looking over everything instead of the rush he was in the previous times he searched Elias’ office. There are a few pieces of Gertrude’s research in one of his filing cabinets and it seems Elias kept many of Jonah’s letters in his desk. Jon can read them later. The two things of greatest interest to him is a notebook hidden in the false bottom of a drawer and the corpse of Elias himself.

“Martin, do you recall what happened to his eyes?” Jon asks. _Martin is slightly annoyed._

“I was slightly distracted at the time,” he replies sharply. Jon feels Martin gently tug him closer to where he is next to the clock. _Martin wonders if there would still be some satisfaction in snogging Jon now instead of last night._

“I don’t think Barnabus would appreciate us kissing in front of him,” Jon teases. “Jonah put the bones of the friend he left in the Lonely in the clock.”

_Martin remembers the numbing sting of the Lonely and considers smashing the clock. Although Jon would probably prefer to set whatever Lonely properties it had out into the world to see what happens._ Jon presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Are you sure you aren’t the one in my head?”

Jon sits on the floor of what was Elias’s office while Martin prepares the body for puppeteering and reads the notebook. It’s an outline for a ritual and at first Jon thinks it’s the Watcher’s Crown but there are a number of notes on balance and marking someone with the fourteen. It outlines Elias’ plan to mark _him_. He took Jon coming to him already marked with the Web as a blessing from the Mother of Puppets. He had hoped Tim’s relationship with the Stranger would make it easier for Jon to gain a mark that way but the mark he gained from the Unknowing would suffice. Elias had _let_ Jane Prentiss into the Archive and when Tim and Sasha died he used Jon’s fear of letting anyone else suffer the same fate to get him marked three more times. He had been concerned when Jon became involved with Martin and was considering finding a way to bring Martin in on the ritual. Apparently, cobwebs made his vision around Jon hazey enough that he assumed Martin had taken control of Jon entirely. His last-ditch effort to sever Martin from Jon had been to get Peter Lukas to send him to the Lonely. Even if Martin did force Jon to rescue him, Jon would still be marked by the Lonely. Near the end of the notebook is an incantation. Presumably, the one Elias would have made Jon read to bring about the apocalypse.

“Martin, I….you should read this,” Jon says. “We still have half an hour before anyone shows up.”

Martin takes the book from Jon and puppets him into his lap. _As he reads Martin grows furious._ Jon shivers at the boiling wrath he feels in Martin. _Elias talks about Jon like he’s an object. Like kind, gentle Jon is nothing but a tool. How dare he?_ Jon gently rubs Martin’s arms. _All of Jon’s kindness was his now. Elias would make for barely a footnote in either of their lives. Martin sees why Jon asked him to read this. Was this what the dream from the Web meant?_

“That was my reasoning as well. The way this ritual is set up it’s meant to leave the Eye on top but I think with some editing it could be a dual ritual.”

“I suppose the instructions are just laid out in the dream,” Martin replies thoughtfully. “Leave it to the Web wait until a successful ritual was possible to make its move.”


	34. A Final Statement is Taken and The Archivist and The Spider Crown Each Other King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basira makes the mistake of coming back, Jonah Magnus makes the worse mistake of being mean to Martin, and Jon and Martin usher in the Apocalypse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW  
> Consensual loss of bodily autonomy  
> Consensual loss of mental privacy  
> Spiders  
> Body Horror  
> End of the World

The following weeks are exhausting and fascinating. Martin’s Elias puppet speaks with the same academic smugness it did in life as if fires various staff members. _They aren’t actually fired but Martin does his best not to remind Jon of their fates as spider egg sacks._ Not one of them notices his eyeless sockets. Jon takes exit interviews (statements) from the researchers from Artifact Storage and gluts himself on their terror while Martin watches.

Over time Jon finds himself less and less aware of his physical body. _Martin marvels at how relaxed Jon is at being controlled._ Martin is often the one moving it and there are far more interesting things to _know_ than where he’s going. Like how Martin stops catching himself when he thinks about Jon. He’ll just sit in Jon’s office while he works and loudly day-dream at him.

Ritual preparations are stressful for a number of reasons. In Elias’ plan Jon had been intended to be the lynchpin but in their understanding of the dream both of them were meant to read out the incantation. The concern was that Jon was meant to be marked by all 14 of the Dread Powers and he was currently only marked by 13. On top of that, Martin was only marked by five and the idea of sending Martin into danger for any reason was unthinkable. _Martin would rather drag the Web into the world with his bare hands than let the Lonely touch his Jon._ If this truly was what the Web wanted it would mark them both, anyway but neither of them would like it. 

It’s during one of the rare instances of Martin being away from Jon that someone enters his archives. In his arrogance, Jon goes alone to investigate who could possibly have found their way out of the tunnels and into the Institute. Basira Hussain stands in the hallway with a surprised look on her face.

“He said I’d catch you by surprise,” she says when she sees Jon staring at her. “Oh well, this still works.”

Jon _is_ surprised but not so much so that he doesn’t respond quickly to Basira charging him.

“ **Who?** ” He compels and she freezes.

“N-no,” she resists. Jon can feel the resistance in her mind and he presses against it until she yields. It must be painful. “I-I don’t know his name. After me and….After I couldn’t come into the Institute the normal way I started getting letters. Bloke sending them said coming up from the tunnels would catch you off guard.”

“ **Why did you want to come into the Institute?** ”

“To kill you,” she answers easily. “After you took my statement and started showing up in my dreams I knew something was off about you but Daisy was my first priority. 

The French police were nice enough when I came. I think the woman who they paid to be my translator was genuinely sorry that I had lost someone but the only consolation I needed was putting a bullet in the head of the monster that did this.

They have their own version of Section 31 there and someone was nice enough to contact me. At first, it was because I was a suspect but once I sat with them and explained that I was after the thing that had killed my partner they showed me the real autopsy report.

Daisy’s entire spinal cord had been reduced to spider web. The coroner believed that was true of _most_ of her nervous system but once he opened her skull he found something _worse_. Her brain, it turns out, had multiple tumors. They all should have been fatal on their own but instead, each one was a little eyeball.

I sat back and thought to myself, “who do I know that deals in eyes? I know! That little creep that watches me in my nightmares every night.”

I went to the Institute when I got back to confront you only to find myself on the other side of London. I tried again and got off the bus in _Wales_.

I pulled a few strings with some old police contacts to get your address but the same thing happened when I tried to get into your flat. One moment I’m stepping on to the lift and the next I’m on the London Eye. 

The more I tried to reach you the more I confirmed that Blackwood was protecting you. So I staked out your place of work. Turns out I’m not the only one with a vendetta and I ran into a couple of new friends.

Trevor Herbert and Julia Montauk were having the same problem. Said you stole something from them and they weren’t happy. It’s funny, Julia reminded me a lot of Daisy. That’s probably why I stuck with them for a few months. We hunted other stuff. Vampires mostly. Daisy didn’t want me to know about vampires but I did and now there I was burning them.

It was nice to be part of a pack. To hunt for monsters and _know_ I was on the right side. I couldn’t forget about you or the spider, though and when Trevor and Julia decided to head out of London I stayed. All alone. Until the letters started appearing a couple of weeks ago.

They gave me detailed instructions on how to sneak into the Institute via the tunnels, when you were working, and where Blackwood would be at certain times of the day. I guess J.M. didn’t expect you to be here right now.”

“ **Where did Trevor and Julia go?** ” Jon asks. He feels her resistance and pushes against it. Blood begins trickling out of her nose but she stands firm against answering him. _Jonah Magnus was pressing the worst knowledge imaginable into Martin’s head._ Jon cracks Basira’s mind open like an egg and her entire life floods into his knowledge as she dies.

Jon storms into what had been Elias’s office and finds where Elias’s eyes had gone. Or more accurately, he finds where the eyes he believed belonged to Elias Bouchard had gone to. The desiccated corpse of Jonah Magnus stands over Martin. The only part of the body that looks fresh are the eyes. _Martin knows exactly what it feels like the die drowning._ Magnus makes a noise that sounds almost like a laugh as Martin- Jon’s Martin- trembles and weeps. Yet again the rush of violence that filled Jon when he killed Elias draws him to smack Jonah across the back of the head and step on his eyes, finally killing him.

_Martin is afraid. More afraid than he’s ever been in his life. Every time he shuts his eyes he knows what it would feel like to be buried alive. Warm, firm hands grasp his and he’s compelled to look._

“Martin, my Martin look at me, it’s-it’s alright,” Jon soothes past the rage in his heart. “I-I need you to help me do something, ok? Then you’ll never... nothing will ever hurt you again.”

_Martin’s mind of full of terrible images and knowledge but he knows Jon’s voice. His Jon is staring into him with a thousand glowing eyes. Some attached to his body but many of them float around them. It’s terrible and beautiful and grounding._

“There you are, love,” Jon says. This was it. As long as the world stayed as it was something or someone would try to hurt his Martin. This was going to work because he was going to _make it_. “I need you to **make me draw the Dread Powers into the world.**

Martin begins the evocation. He doesn’t struggle against Jon’s compulsion but he winds his web around Jon’s lips and tongue to draw the evocation from his mouth. Jon’s voice takes on Martin’s accent and inflection as he feels something inside of him break like a dam letting all the fear of humanity flow out.

_There is a thread labeled Jonathan Sims. It’s tied to a number of other threads. Some only seem to have a minor effect on his life while others seem to re-draw his entire fate. The one he is immediately drawn to is the thread labeled Mr. Spider. It intersects Jon’s life only once but it totally changes the path of it. It winds his and drags him down the path to a researcher at the Magnus Institute. The path that Jonah Magnus pulled and weaved into The Archivist._

_He sees the draw of Mr. Spider drag him right up to Martin’s doorstep like a gift. He sees Martin’s weaving of him clearly and beautifully. At first, it’s blocking him off a path to compel Martin but as time passes the weaving decrease in lieu of Jon wrapping his thread around Martin’s. Martin must know this. Perhaps that’s why he was so adamant about Jon making his own choices because he was aware the Web had given Jon away to him like a web-veiled bride._

Jon awakes to the glorious knowledge that every living thing is afraid and what’s more he aware of every thread of fate dangling around him like a spider web. Martin is still sleeping. There’s dried blood at the corners of his eight eyes that Jon gently wipes away before gently tugging the thread to wake him up. _Martin wakes up to the silvery threads of web covering every person in the world at his disposal and the knowledge that all of them are afraid. Jon is looking down at him with a thousand glowing eyes. He feels the gentle tug of Jon’s web pulling him into a seating position and he knows Jon is thinking of making him kiss him. Jon knows he knows this so Martin tugs Jon into a kiss._ Jon grabs a handful of Martin’s jumper and Martin cries out in pain. He gently pulls the garment up to reveal _his_ eye staring up at him from where Martin’s heart is meant to be and he feels a rush of possessive pride at the sight. _Martin is curious about the state of Jon’s heart so the shirt is unbuttoned to reveal a hole full of web in the cavity where his heart was meant to be. Martin is aware it’s his web and he gently touches it and Jon goes limp. He’s aware the Jon feels like a scruffed kitten._

“A-are you alright, my love?,” Jon asks. He doesn’t need to ask. He’s well aware that Martin can see into him and would easily think the answer. _Martin likes the sound of Jon’s voice and thinks it’s sweet of Jon to ask. The confrontation with Jonah had taken a lot out of him but suddenly knowing all of the world’s suffering made the knowledge Jonah had forced into him less mind-shattering._ Jon also likes the sound of Martin’s voice.

“I’m fine, Jon,” Martin huffs. “More than fine, actually. How many people have lovers who give them the literal world?”

“Just you and me,” Jon says quietly as he _pulls_ Martin into another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading/comments/giving kudos!
> 
> I'm @leighistired on Tumblr. Come say hi!


End file.
